Against the Tide
by PandaTurtle333
Summary: Anna Wycoff and the others have found a tentative peace. But, how long can they stand in a world pushing so heavily against them? In the fourth installment of the series, willpower will be tested as the survivors face ever growing challenges from inside and out. Book Four of the S.O.S. series.
1. Prologue

Anna laughed heartily, clutching her stomach as she leaned over, barely able to breathe. Her diaphragm ached from the strain and tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she could not stop laughing.

"I can't believe—" she wheezed through her laughter. "—we did that."

Marley had collapsed onto the ground, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, a toothy grin plastered across her face. Anna fell to her knees beside her friend, her laughter finally dying out. She continued to smile, massaging her aching cheeks.

"You're never going to forget this." Marley breathed. She rolled onto her side and grasped Anna's forearm, her grip tight. "I won't let you forget, Anna," she said, staring hard at her. "I will never let you forget."

Anna nodded slowly, the smile dropping away from her face. "I won't forget," she assured.

"You'll remember this forever," Marley insisted, her grip on Anna's arm tightening. Anna winced and reached up to push Marley's hand off her.

Before Anna could blink, Marley's fingers were wrapped around her throat, pushing her to the cold ground.

"Marley!" Anna cried, her voice strained under the pressure of Marley's hands. "Stop!" she choked out.

"You did this, Anna!" Marley shrieked. "This is your fault! Your fault!" Marley pulled Anna's head up and slammed it back against the ground. "Why did you do it, Anna?"

Anna clawed desperately at Marley's hands. "We can work this out," she begged.

"This is the way it has to be," Marley hissed into her ear.

In the distance, Anna could hear the rumble of thunder clouds and a scream ripping through the air like some wounded animal. Anna cast her eyes about for any way to defend herself.

"You did this to me." Marley growled. Anna looked to Marley – what used to be Marley – staring back at her with the eyes of the dead.


	2. Chapter One

Daryl opened his eyes to the cracked ceiling of the cell. He sighed as he pulled himself into a sitting position and flung the purple quilt off his legs. He patted the empty space between him and the wall, feeling the coolness of the striped bed sheet. Anna must have been awake for some time now.

He rubbed at his face as he turned to press his socked feet into the deep brown area rug on the ground and pulled his boots from under the full-sized bed.

A few days after taking in the Woodbury survivors, they had returned to the town to bring back necessary supplies as well as creature comforts, like bigger beds for those sharing, side tables, shelves, and decorations.

Daryl had thought these extra little things were unnecessary. But then he saw the smile on Anna's face as she was folding their clothes into a light blue chest in their cell and he changed his mind.

It had been an adjustment, sharing a cell with Anna. The first few weeks she insisted on sleeping in separate bunks – until one night, after a particularly rough nightmare, Anna had crawled into his bunk and wrapped herself around him. They got a bigger bed after that.

He looked around the room, taking in the assortment of knick-knacks and pictures Anna had collected – some of them Daryl had picked up – while out on runs. She displayed them proudly on the small bookcase pushed against the wall just inside the entrance of their cell.

Daryl had never really stayed in one place long enough to have clutter, but Anna seemed to love it – having things. She'd once told him, as she fell asleep curled into his side, that it made it all seem more permanent. More like a home.

Shaking his head, Daryl stood from the bed and knelt in front of the light blue chest in the corner and flipped the lid open. His clothes were folded neatly on the right side, a clean pair of socks resting on top. He changed into the fresh clothes and shoved his feet into his boots before he pushed past the floral bed sheet that served as a privacy wall and door for their cell.

.

"Mornin', Daryl!"

Daryl nodded at Dr. Subramanian as he walked by the tables filled with people conversing over their breakfast. As he passed, they too greeted him. He continued on his way to Carol standing at the grill, grinning cheekily at him.

"Just so you know, Anna and I liked you first."

"Stop," Daryl grumbled, popping a piece of deer meat in his mouth as he picked up a white ceramic bowl Carol had made up for him. "You know, Rick brought in a lot of 'em, too."

"Not recently," Carol countered. "Give a stranger sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're gonna have to learn to live with the love," she smirked.

"Right."

"I need you to see something," Carol sighed. "Patrick, you want to take over?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Said a young dorky looking guy who rushed over to accept the tongs from Carol. Daryl went to leave with Carol when Patrick called out.

"Uh, Mr. Dixon." Daryl managed not to roll his eyes. "I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir. And I'd be honored to shake your hand."

Patrick held out his hand for Daryl to take, a nervous smile on his pale face.

Daryl sighed, looking between the hand and Patrick before he side-eyed Carol. He sucked the juices from his breakfast off his fingers before he slapped his hand against Patrick's and gave it a firm shake. With Patrick satisfied, Daryl stalked off with Carol.

All the attention and praise he received made Daryl uncomfortable. He wasn't used to it – he didn't think he ever would be. Carol and Anna, though, seemed happy to tease him about it every chance they got.

"About today," Carol began as they made their way to the outskirts of the courtyard. "I don't know if we're gonna be able to spare a lot of people for the run."

"That place is good to go. We're gonna move on it," Daryl insisted.

"Yeah," Carol muttered as they overlooked the field and the outer fences where people were attempting to clear the steady stream of walkers. "The thing is, we had a pretty big build up overnight."

Daryl grimaced at the sight. They needed more people on the fences, or some way to disperse the growing herd.

"Dozens more towards tower three." Carol sighed. "It's getting as bad as last month. They don't spread out anymore."

"With more of us sittin' here, we're drawin' more of 'em out," Daryl explained through a mouthful of food. "You get enough of those damn fence-clingers, they start to herd up."

"Pushing against the fences again," Carol agreed. "It's manageable, but unless we get ahead of it, not for long." She looked to him and pursed her lips. "Sorry, Pookie."

Daryl scoffed and bumped her with his elbow.

"Do you think Anna's figured out how Woodbury dealt with walkers?" Carol asked as they turned away from the field and headed back to the main courtyard. "Where is she anyway? She didn't stop by for breakfast."

Daryl shrugged lightly.

"Where do you think she is?"

.

.

The library was Anna's favorite place in the prison. Ever since they had cleared it, from the crack of dawn to late at night she spent every spare moment there, her work spread out in front of her on the table.

Today, like most days, she had woken up before the sun and quietly dressed, leaving Daryl to sleep as she snuck off to the library.

She couldn't deny that her reasons for coming in so early were in large part due to the nightmares. She had admitted as much to Daryl, who hadn't been exactly helpful. But she didn't fault him for that. It wasn't like she even knew what she needed.

So, rather than address the problem, Anna threw herself into Milton's journals, jotting down notes in the margins of his research, searching for solutions to problems the prison faced increasingly every day, or sitting with other survivors and talking about their problems.

At the moment she was alone, scouring through the notes Milton had taken about Woodbury, searching for an answer to the prison's current conundrum – pileups of walkers at the fences.

That was one thing she missed about Fort Benning – the defenses. It had been a compound made up almost entirely of soldiers who had established a secure perimeter with wooden spikes, barbed wire, chain-link, and sheets of metal scavenged from the surrounding area. To top it all off, they had constant patrols. At any given time, there had been four people – two in a group – that circled the perimeter for a few hours, took out minor threats, and alerted the rest of the compound of bigger ones.

She'd tried to bring these ideas before the council, but they had dismissed her on the grounds that they simply didn't have enough resources or people capable of the task. They had at least taken the wooden spikes idea, but it wasn't enough for Anna.

Anna groaned as she tossed her pencil onto the table, leaning back in her chair and rubbing at her tired eyes.

"I need to start getting more sleep," she grumbled to herself.

"Hey, Anna."

Anna looked up from her hands to see Tyreese standing at the door to the library, awkwardly taking up the entirety of the threshold with his bulky frame.

"What's up Ty?" She asked, relaxing her posture as she waved for him to come in.

Tyreese slid off his cap and clutched it in front of him as he lumbered over to stand in front of her. Anna hated the way he always stood there, hovering over her until she ordered him to sit down. But he was getting better at not hovering, seeming to realize how uncomfortable it made her.

"What's on your mind?" She asked again as he sat across from her. She pushed the journals out of the way, showing him he had her undivided attention.

"I don't want to do the fence anymore. I—I can't," he stuttered.

"You don't have to," she assured.

This was a regular occurrence – and not just with Tyreese. After the prison started receiving a steady stream of survivors, Anna made a point to talk to each new arrival, mostly in an attempt to interview them as Milton had done at Woodbury. This put her in an interesting position at the prison. It seemed, as a consequence of maintaining such a relationship with the survivors, she had become a sort of make-shift therapist.

It hadn't been her intention, and she always made it clear that she had never been a board-certified therapist in the slightest, but it didn't matter. The citizens of the prison still shuffled into the library, or wherever they could catch her alone, and talked to her about whatever was bugging them, the memories that haunted them.

Eventually, Anna decided to host a nightly group session – jokingly calling it Survivors  
Anonymous.

"It's just not the same as when you're out there," Tyreese sighed, pulling Anna from her  
thoughts. "On the fence… I can see their faces. See who they were before." Anna nodded along, encouraging him to continue. "But I still want to contribute."

"What do you think you should do instead?"

"Well…." He trailed off. "There is that run today. Sasha says it should be easy," he explained with a shrug.

Anna smiled. "And it's not the same as the fences."

Tyreese nodded slowly. "I don't know how to tell Karen. I don't want her to think less of me."

"She won't," Anna said, slipping her hand into Tyreese's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Just be honest with her, she'll understand."

Tyreese wiped his free hand down his face. "How do you feel when Daryl leaves on runs?"

"It's not fun," Anna sighed. "But it helps seeing him before he goes. Actually, he's going  
again this morning."

Tyreese jumped to his feet, pulling his cap back on. "Right! You'd better go  
then," he said, heading for the door.

"Tyreese!" Anna called after him as she stood from her chair. He looked back at her. "Talk to Karen."


	3. Chapter Two

Anna strolled down the courtyard, nodding and waving at the people who greeted her as she passed. She was relieved that none of them stopped her to have a chat. Of course, they all knew where she was heading.

"It's like a damn romance novel," she heard Daryl gripe as she made her way around the green Nissan, Sasha and Glenn loading it up with supplies – Tyreese flashed her a smile as he passed her, a small crate of medical supplies in his hands.

"You read many of those, Dixon?" Anna asked as she approached him, his back to her.

Daryl turned at the sound of her voice, a light smirk playing at his lips as he backed away from Zack to step easily into her space.

"You better come back," Anna said, reaching up to tap a finger against his chest. "That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am," he said in that easy drawl of his, his chest rumbling under her fingers as he spoke.

"Hey."

Everyone turned to face the new voice. Bob stood in front of the Nissan, a backpack on his shoulders.

"I'd like to start pulling my weight around here," he explained, clapping his hands in front of him.

"Bob, it's only been a week," Sasha sighed.

"That's a week worth of meals, a roof over my head. Let me earn my keep," he insisted.

Sasha stepped around the driver's side door to the Nissan, leveling Bob with an earnest gaze. "You were out on your own when Daryl found you," she began.

Bob was the newest survivor to be added to the ranks of the prison. Anna had only spoken to him a handful of times, offering him a seat in her S.A. group sessions. So far, he'd refused.

"That's right," Bob assented, not dissuaded in the least.

"I just want to make sure you know how to play on a team," Sasha continued. "You haven't been to see Anna, yet, have you?"

"We ain't gonna do it unless it's easy," Daryl chimed in.

"You know he was a medic in the Army," Glenn offered, leaning against the car. But Sasha turned her attention to Anna.

Anna grimaced. The council endorsed her impromptu appointment to resident therapist – Sasha most of all. It had become expected that a new arrival spoke with Anna before they were even considered for runs. For whatever reason, Anna's opinion on the mental stability of a person mattered.

But the sessions helped.

"You don't go in unless it's easy, and Bob—" Anna turned to the man in question. "You come to at least one group session when you get back."

With a heavy sigh, Bob nodded his agreement to the terms, looking back to Sasha, who still seemed reluctant to budge.

"You a hell of a tough sell. You know that?" Bob asked, grinning at her.

"Okay. We're loading up now," Sasha relented, turning her back to the man.

"See you when you get back?" Anna asked, looking to Daryl.

"'Course," Daryl muttered, planting a quick kiss atop Anna's head before stalking off to his bike at the front of the caravan.

Sasha walked up then, her lips pursed. "You any closer to figuring out how to deal with our little pest problem?" The woman asked, hands in her pockets.

Anna shook her head, frowning at Sasha. "Milton mentioned something about walker pits, but he didn't go into much detail."

"Walker pits? I think Ty and I saw those. They had some kind of weird contraption that made a bunch of noise – sounded like wailing."

"Really?" Anna asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "You think they're still there?"

Sasha raised her eyebrows and bowed her head. "It's possible," she sighed. "Maybe Michonne can check it out when she heads out next."

Anna nodded her agreement. "You guys be careful out there."

Sasha flashed Anna a smirk as she backed away, headed for the Nissan.

"Don't worry – I'll bring your boyfriend back in one piece."

"And with his dignity intact!" Anna called, laughing. She glanced at Daryl astride his motorcycle, flipping her the bird as he looked at her over his shoulder. Anna puckered her lips at him, stepping away from the vehicles as they roared to life.

Alone in the carport, she watched as they pulled forward, following the dirt path through the field to the front gates.

She stayed there, watching with a deep-set frown, until the caravan passed the gates and disappeared at the tree line. Anna thought about the conversation with Tyreese, asking her how she felt when Daryl left.

She hadn't lied exactly – it wasn't fun when Daryl left – she'd simply downplayed just how much anxiety she had when he passed those gates without her. There were just too many variables, too many unknowns, on the other side of that fence.

.

"How do you stop the dreams?" Nicholas asked, shaking his bowed head as he adjusted his seating. "I can still hear the growls in my sleep."

"I don't think you can ever stop hearing them," Susie whispered from beside him.

Anna looked between them, at their broken faces. Nicholas and Susie had arrived at the prison not long before Bob.

"I'm sure the pile-ups on the fences don't help much, either," Anna sighed, straightening her back. "I wish I could say that the sound goes away – or the smell – we just…" she trailed off, searching for the right words. "We just have to find a way to accept it as our new normal."

"That's not fair," Lincoln chimed in from across the circle. He was the youngest in the circle at 19 and was usually more interested in listening than speaking.

"It's not," Anna agreed. "A lot of things about life aren't fair – it's always been that way, even before the world fell apart."

Lincoln slumped in his chair, sucking on his teeth as he shot a hard glare at the ground. "I wish we could just kill them all," he muttered. "That's what I dream about."

"I think we all wish that." Anna looked around the room, at the grave faces of her companions, some nodding along, others simply lost in thought.

"I dream about my wife," admitted Charlie from his corner.

"My kids."

"My parents."

"What do you dream about, Anna?" Lincoln asked, leveling her with his bright hazel eyes. She felt as though he saw right through her. Maybe he did – maybe he saw the haunted look in her face or the way she always steered the conversation away from her.

But he always asked her things outright and never let her dodge his questions. Not that she tried hard. Anna had grown tired of dodging questions a long time ago.

She swallowed as everyone looked to her expectantly.

"I dream about my friend," she said, her voice low.

Every night for 182 days, Anna dreamt of Marley. They weren't always the same, but they always held a common theme; guilt.

.

After another ten minutes, Anna declared the group done for the day and everyone filed out of the library, ready for supper. With the sun falling low in the sky, Anna knew Daryl was due back with the others very soon.

Anna rushed from the library, a few of Milton's journals held to her chest. She hesitated only for a moment when she saw a figure coming down the hall in her direction, but smoothly resumed her pace when she recognized the man. Soon, they stood face to face.

"Rick? Are you okay?" She asked, taking in the haunted look on his face. It was a familiar look, now, for all of them.

"Can I… can I talk to you?" He asked, his voice rough.

She nodded and led the way back to the library. They sat together at the only table in the room. Rick didn't say anything for a long time, just stared at the ground, thinking. Anna chose to remain silent, allowing him to talk when he was ready. It was rare that Rick sought her out to talk – the last time they had a real talk was three months ago on what had been the last run for each of them. Since then, neither had left the relative safety of the prison.

"I went to check the traps," he started. "I met a woman."

Her first thought was that they had taken in a new survivor, but a shadow crossed Rick's face. They were quiet for a few minutes, the sun slowly descending until it no longer shined through the high windows of the library.

"What happened, Rick?" She asked when he didn't continue.

"She said—she said we don't get to come back—from the things we've done."

Anna clenched her jaw, her mind echoing with the memory of their last run. "Do you believe that?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

.

.

Daryl leaned against the bars of Beth's open cell, watching her write in her diary before she looked up at him.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hi."

He had no idea how he was supposed to tell her what happened. Why the hell had he volunteered? It should be Maggie here, or Anna, telling this girl that her boyfriend was dead. But here he was, staring awkwardly at her, unsure of where to start.

"What is it?"

He sighed. "Zack."

Beth looked at the words in her diary. "Is he dead?" She asked, looking back up at him.

Daryl didn't say anything. He couldn't. Zack had been a good guy - a good kid. He didn't deserve to go out, especially not like that.

"Okay," Beth rose from her bunk, closing her diary and setting down her pen. She took a deep breath before she took a piece of paper off a board balanced on a steel filing cabinet. Daryl leaned into the cell to get a better look at the morbid sign.

 _This workplace has been –0 days without an accident._

She looked to him, almost surprised that he was still there.

"What?"

He shook his head and she stepped forward, the number three hanging at her side.

"I don't cry anymore, Daryl. I'm just glad I got to know him, you know?" She explained.

"Me too," he muttered.

"Are you okay?"

Daryl shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground. "Just tired of losing people is all."

And then he felt her arms wrap around him and his whole body tensed. He reached for her elbow, ready to pull her away when she started talking again.

"I'm glad I didn't say goodbye. I hate goodbyes."

He thought of Anna and Carol and Merle and everyone and how they never said goodbye. They couldn't. Because goodbye was too certain, and this world was anything but.

"Me too."

.

.

Anna was standing in the dim light of the bedside lantern, adjusting her night shirt over her shoulders. She heard the familiar soft tap of fingers against bars.

"I'm dressed," she called, and Daryl pulled the bed sheet aside, letting it fall back into place behind him.

Sasha had told Anna all about what happened on the run – about Zack. Daryl's face was unreadable as he set his crossbow in the corner at the foot of their bed. But she didn't need to read his face to know what he was thinking.

She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressed her forehead into his chest.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, his arms winding around her in a tight embrace. "Beth?" She asked.

"She'll be alright."

"And you?"

Daryl pulled away and peered down at her, not saying anything when he brought his lips down to hers.

The kiss was soft at first, as if he was making sure he hadn't caught her too off guard. But she kissed him back, moving her lips against his, tasting him on her tongue. Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, her fingers curling in his hair. He tightened his hold on her, their bodies pressed flush against each other, deepening the kiss.

She could feel her heart pounding against her rib-cage, fluttering with a mix of excitement and fear. It was always the fear that had Anna pulling away, her lips sore and swollen, chest heaving as she blinked up at him.

"What was that for?" She breathed, her voice hoarse as she tried to calm down.

He pulled her in for another hug, burying his face in her hair and sighed, his fingers drumming against her lower back.

"Cause I can."

Anna smiled, shaking her head. "Let's get some sleep," she said stepping out from his arms to crawl into bed. He followed her, throwing the purple quilt over their bodies before he positioned himself on his back, one hand resting on his stomach, the other at his side.

Anna settled next to him, her hand slipping into his easily, their fingers lacing together. He reached up to switch off their bedside lantern, plunging their cell in darkness.

"Goodnight Mr. Dixon," she muttered, pressing her face into her pillow.

"Night."


	4. Chapter Three

As always, Anna had gotten up before the sun and did her usual routine; exercise, wash herself, dress, then head to the library. After roughly an hour of sitting, hunched over one of Milton's journals, the sun had broken the horizon and filtered through the dirty windows.

Anna switched off the lantern she'd brought with her, allowing the sun to illuminate the words in front of her. At the moment she was sifting through the research box, hoping to find something of use for the prison's pest-problem, but most – if not all – of Milton's research had to do with what happened when someone turned.

She hated reading about his hypothesis on what happened to the brain, how he thought there was a chance that something was left behind. Anna had taken no small pleasure in writing in the margins just how wrong he was, citing Dr. Jenner from the CDC.

Had Anna been around for any of Milton's experiments, she would have gladly told him to his face that there was nothing left but basic motor function and the desire to consume, proven by people with more credentials than him.

But Milton was dead, and she hadn't been a part of his experiments; she couldn't tell him how wrong he was. So, she settled for disproving his hypothesis in his journals. It was the best she could do.

She was just reaching for another journal when she heard the distant sound of successive pops.

Anna paused, furrowing her brow as she strained her ears.

 _POP! POP! POP!_

Gunfire.

Anna pushed out of her chair so suddenly that it clattered to the ground. But she didn't notice as she flew out of the library.

 _POP! POP!_

The sounds were getting louder, and she could tell they were coming from D Block. As she neared, she heard the screams.

"Get out!"

That was Rick.

She forced her way past those fleeing the scene just in time to see a walker descending on a young man beneath the stairs. Anna ran forward, swinging around the stairs as she drew her knife, and with a single fluid motion, ran the blade through the walker's head. But it was too late. The young man had been bitten, half of his face torn off, exposing muscles and teeth as he cried out in agony.

Anna rushed to him, falling to her knees at his side. She looked into his terrified hazel eyes.

"Please—" Lincoln gasped, gripping her hands. Anna grimaced as the muscles constricted and stretched as he spoke. "Please, I—" Lincoln stopped talking then, stopped breathing, his eyes unseeing and still horrified.

Anna took a deep steadying breath.

"I won't let you become one of them," she whispered, plunging the blade into his ear.

The gun fire died as Anna sat there beneath the stairs, cradling Lincoln's head in her lap, his blood seeping through the fabric of her jeans.

.

Anna stood over Lincoln's covered body, a red stain already forming over his face. All around her, people hovered over the fallen, mourning. But there was no one mourning Lincoln.

He'd been alone ever since his family perished in a herd early on in the turn, survived with a few groups until he lost them, too. When he joined the prison, he hadn't been hopeful that it would last long. But S.A. had helped him – Anna had helped him – to come out of his shell, to establish relationships with the people around him, to feel a bit of hope.

"I'm sorry, Anna." She glanced over her shoulder to see Nicholas standing awkwardly behind her. "I should've—"

"Should've gets nothing done," she said, cutting him off. Anna turned to face him fully. "There's nothing you could have done, Nick," she explained carefully, her voice a little softer this time.

"What do you think the council is going to do?"

Daryl, Glenn, Carol, Sasha and Hershel had immediately convened to discuss the situation and possible solutions. Anna didn't know what they were planning on doing, nor did she care. She trusted them to make the right call – as did everyone else in the prison.

It wasn't her job to speak for the council. She had forfeited that right when she refused an offered seat. Anna set her shoulders and let out a long breath.

"Let the council make their decisions. Right now, we need to focus on the task at hand," she declared, marching down the room where the bodies were being stored until graves were dug. Nicholas followed behind her as she walked up a few steps to stand above the crowd.

"Everyone, listen up!"

Faces turned towards her and her heart plummeted. They were all so broken. Anna reminded herself that they had made it through much worse than this.

"I know this is hard. We haven't experienced something quite like this for a long time. We lost a lot of good people today – people we all loved," she said – she couldn't quite hide the pain in her words, but she didn't need to. "So, let us remember them."

She bowed her head. "Lincoln."

There were a few sobs and murmurs in the crowd.

"Patrick." Anna looked up to see Carl standing at the back of the room, his eyes on her. She nodded to him.

"Sarah."

"James."

"Ryan."

And so it continued until the last person called out. They stood there in quiet contemplation, allowing themselves to feel the pain, to deal with their losses.

Anna took a steadying breath before she spoke again.

"When you're ready, I need volunteers for burial and for making grave markers," she explained.

"I'll make the markers." It was Carl again, still at the back of the room, his hand raised.

She nodded to him, and slowly a small group of five men and women stepped forward to dig the graves, while the others decided they would prepare the bodies.

For the next hour, Anna walked around the room offering support, taking a count of the dead, and ensuring they would receive a burial fitting for their beliefs. Taking care of the little things while the council made the big decisions.

That was her job.

.

.

As soon as the bodies were moved, and cell block D was cleared, the council convened in the library. Daryl was the first to walk in, spotting an overturned chair at the table covered in journals and three boxes.

Anna had left in a hurry. He'd seen her in the cell block cradling a young man in her lap as he died, watched her drive her knife into his ear. His name had been Lincoln and he attended Anna's group sessions. The kid was alone, and Daryl didn't doubt that Anna would take it upon herself to mourn him.

The others filed in, taking their usual seats at the table, ignoring the clutter of Anna's workspace.

"Patrick was fine yesterday, and he died overnight," Carol started, looking around the room. "Two people died that quick?" She shook her head. "We'll have to separate everyone that's been exposed."

"That's everyone in that cell block," Daryl explained, righting Anna's overturned chair and sitting down in it. "That's all of us. Maybe more."

"We know that this sickness can be lethal," Hershel chimed in. "We don't know how easily it spreads. Is anyone else showing symptoms that we know of?"

Carol grimaced. "We can't just wait and see. There's children. It isn't just the illness. If people die, they become a threat."

Hershel nodded. "We need a place for them to go. They can't stay in D. We can't risk going in there to clean it up."

Carol clasped her hands in front of her, propping her elbows up on the table as she thought. "We can use cell block A," she offered.

"Death row?" Glenn asked. "I'm not sure that's much of an upgrade."

"It's clean. That's an upgrade," Daryl muttered, turning his attention to Hershel. "Think that'll work for Dr. S?"

"I'll help Caleb get it set up." Hershel said.

Their solemn discussion was interrupted by the sound of coughing coming from the hall. Collectively, they got to their feet and rushed from the room, finding Karen and Tyreese strolling past the library door as Karen let out another series of coughs.

"You okay?" Tyreese asked.

Karen hummed her assent.

"You sure?" Carol asked, stepping into the hallway, followed by the other council members. "You don't sound so good."

"I'm just taking her back to my cell, so she can rest," Tyreese explained, rubbing his hand down Karen's arm.

"Tyreese," Hershel began, his voice soft. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why? What's going on now?" Karen asked.

The council looked to each other, unsure if they should explain the situation before Glenn spoke up.

"We think it's a flu or something. That's how Patrick died."

Hershel stepped forward. "Judith is in that cell block. She's vulnerable. Anyone that may be sick or even exposed should stay away."

"It—it killed Patrick?" Karen stuttered.

"She's gonna be okay," Tyreese insisted. "Now that we know what Patrick died from, we can treat it, right?"

"Don't panic. We're going to figure this out. But we should keep you separated in the meantime," Hershel said, his voice calming. "We'll have Caleb take a look at you. I'll see what we have in the way of medications."

Karen nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. "David from the Decatur group, he's been coughing, too."

"I'll get him," Glenn offered. "There's some clean cells in the tombs, right?" He asked as he took off down the hall.

"Yeah, we'll meet you there," Sasha called after him as she stepped forward to lead Karen and Tyreese towards the tombs.

"There's one more thing," Karen sighed. "They're preparing the bodies for burial – if this really is a flu or whatever, you should probably stop them."

"Who the hell told them to do that?" Daryl asked, straightening his stance.

"Anna."


	5. Chapter Four

Anna was just rewrapping Lincoln in the blood stained bed sheet, kneeled over his body when Carol and Daryl walked into the room, their faces grim

"What's going on?" One woman asked the second she caught sight of them.

"I need everyone to stop what they're doing right now," Carol demanded, her voice not exactly harsh – but there was still an edge to it.

"What's wrong?" Anna asked, straightening as she wiped her hands on her jeans.

"Patrick and Charlie – they died from some kind of illness," Carol explained, stepping further into the room, her hands raised as if she could keep everyone calm.

Anna's stomach dropped, and she looked around the room at all the people not wearing gloves or masks as they handled the bodies. She hadn't even considered the possibility that these people were at risk by being near their fallen loved ones.

"We don't know how easily it spreads, so we need everyone to leave the bodies alone."

"We can't just leave them," cried the same woman from before.

Daryl shook his head. "We won't," he assured, stepping up to stand beside Carol.

"But right now we need to focus on the living," Carol interjected. She turned to Daryl and muttered something to him. He glanced over to Anna and she clenched her jaw.

All Anna could think about was the fact that she had screwed up. Carol started rounding everyone up and directing them out of the room as Daryl stalked over to her.

"Come on," he grumbled, offering his hand to help her up.

She didn't take it, instead standing on her own, dusting off her pants.

"If the bodies are contaminated, everyone who's been handling them has already been exposed," she stated simply, walking away from him.

She made her way to a table. Set atop were a few bowls of pink water and cloths used to wash the bodies. Most of the bodies had already been cleaned, but there were still a few exposed corpses waiting their turn.

"Anna—"

"There's a chance the others are fine," she continued, soaking one of the cloths in the tainted water. It was the best they had.

"Anna—"

"I was in D block during the attack - there's no way I haven't already been exposed," she said, her voice almost unfeeling. "So, I'll just stay here."

She knelt down beside one of the waiting corpses, a young woman named Sarah, and started running the wet cloth over her skin.

Daryl grabbed her forearm and pulled her away.

"Damn it, Anna!" He snapped.

"I screwed up!" She shouted, yanking her arm from his grasp. "I thought—" she groaned as she tilted her head back, as if that would keep the tears from falling. "They needed closure, to stay occupied, to _do_ something."

"You didn't know," Daryl insisted, his voice soft, trying to keep her calm.

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have acted without the council's permission."

"You—"

Anna held up her hand, cutting him off again. "Nothing's going to make me feel better about this, Daryl. Just— please. I… I need to do this."

Daryl worked his jaw. He nodded and walked back to the table with the bowls of water and grabbed a cloth.

"No," Anna said, avoiding his eyes as he turned back to her. "I need to do this alone."

His grip on the cloth tightened, his face hard. But he said nothing as he dropped the cloth back to the table and stalked out of the room.

.

.

By the time Daryl walked into the field, a group of five men and women were already waist deep in a row of graves. He stood off to the side watching them, unsure of what to do with himself – all the shovels were in use. The idea to start bringing out the bodies crossed his mind, but he didn't think he could stand seeing Anna as she carried out her solemn task.

He stepped forward, whistling for the attention of the two closest men.

"Why don't y'all start bringin' 'em out," he said, reaching for one of their shovels.

One of the men started taking his gloves off when Daryl shook his head.

"Nah, keep those on – and wear masks."

The men looked to each other but didn't question his instructions, pulling themselves from the Earth, making their way back inside.

Daryl sighed and pulled his black bandana from his back pocket, tying it around his face before pulling his gloves on and jumping into the nearest grave. He shoved the business end of the shovel into the ground and started adding to the pile.

Over the chorus of moving dirt, Daryl heard the rustle of grass and turned to see Rick approaching.

"Glad you were in there," Daryl commented as Rick stopped to hover over him.

"Wasn't much use without my gun," Rick groaned.

"No, you were," Daryl insisted, pulling the bandana from his face as he looked up at the man. "All this time you've been takin' off, you earned it. We wouldn't be here without you."

Rick picked up the second shovel and leaned against it.

"It was all of us."

"No," Daryl said. "It was you first." He paused, taking in the haggard appearance of his friend. "You gonna help us figure this out?"

Rick blinked at him. "I—I screwed up too many times. Those calls, you got to make. I start down that road… I almost lost my boy – who he was," Rick shook his head. "Whatever else this place needs, I'm here for it."

Daryl turned back to keep digging. "Like I said, you earned it. But for what it's worth, you see mistakes – I see, when the shit hits, you're standin' there with a shovel."

"Rick! Daryl!"

The two turned to see Maggie frantically waving them over before she pointed back to the fence. Daryl's eyes widened at the sight of walkers pushing against the chain-link, forcing it to bow in.

He threw down his shovel and scrambled out of the grave. As soon as he was on his feet he took off toward the fence, snatching up a sharpened metal bar on his way, Rick and the other diggers racing after him.

"The noise drew 'em out, now this part's startin' to give!" Maggie explained as everyone lined the fence, putting down the walkers one by one. But it was as though for every walker they downed, two more took its place, pushing harder against the fence.

"Are you seeing this?"

Daryl glanced over at Sasha, who stared at the ground, her expression a mixture of confusion, disgust, and anger. He looked down at a row of dead rat corpses lying along the fence.

"Is someone feeding these things?" Sasha asked, incredulous.

Daryl's attention was drawn back to the fence at the sound of a loud metallic groan. The fence was giving way.

"Heads up!" He called.

"This part of the fence, now!"

"It's gonna give!"

They pushed back against the walkers, trying desperately to keep the fence upright, as if they would be strong enough to keep it so. It was hopeless.

"Everybody back!" Daryl shouted. "Come on, back, now!" Everyone did as he commanded, pressing their backs against the secondary fence, staring in dismay at the situation before them.

"The fence keeps bending in like that, those walkers are coming over it."

Daryl clenched his jaw, raking his mind for any solutions.

 _What do we do?_

"Daryl, get the truck."

He looked to Rick, his face grim.

"I know what to do," Rick assured.

Daryl nodded. There was no time to deliberate or argue. Whatever Rick had in mind, it was better than nothing, and he trusted the man to make the right call. Without further ado, Daryl took off for the carport.

.

.

Anna sat on the ground, her back against the wall as she stared across the room at the several bodies lying in a row, bloody bed sheets as their death shrouds. Carl had finished making the markers and dropped them off not too long ago.

She hadn't allowed him or anyone else in the room since Carol and Daryl had made their announcement. That had been the hardest part – not letting anyone in to grieve over their fallen loved ones. The only comfort Anna could give was assurances that she would not leave the fallen alone until they were in the ground. Two men had eventually come in with gloves and masks to carry away the dead.

Looking at her hands, stained pink and red from her work, Anna felt the exhaustion finally sink in. She almost didn't care about the sound of the door creaking open or the boots walking across the cement floor.

"You shouldn't be in here," she muttered, not bothering to look up at whomever had decided to intrude.

The boots stopped in front of her, black and covered in dirt. Daryl. He sat down beside her, his bare arm brushing against hers. She closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of his skin.

"Been a shitty day," he said, propping his arms up on his knees.

Anna hummed her agreement, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"The fence almost gave in," Daryl stated.

"What?" Anna asked, lifting her head.

"Bunch of walkers started pushing in on the fence in this one spot. Rick used the piglets to draw 'em away," he explained. "It's fine now, but… someone's been feeding 'em."

Anna shook her head, eyes wide, "I'm sorry, what? Any idea who's doing it?"

"No. Whoever it is, we'll deal with 'em."

"Yeah…" Anna trailed off, looking back to the row of bodies. "You really should leave, though. Can't have you getting sick."

"What about you?"

Anna shrugged. "I've been in here all day, I'm already exposed."

"Anyone who was in D block has been exposed," he added.

"And the people I let touch the bodies," Anna groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her forehead, all too aware of the blood on her hands.

"You didn't know."

"It was stupid."

"Would you shut up?" Daryl snapped. "Why do you always gotta make everything your fault?"

"You're right." Anna sighed, her heart tightening painfully in her chest. "It shouldn't always be about me."

"That's not what I meant."

Anna scrunched up her face, confused. "Then what do you mean?"

"You're always blaming yourself for shit you have no control over. Sophia, Carl gettin' shot, Marley…"

She grimaced at the last name, looking away from him. "But I was responsible in some way for all of that."

"You don't make everybody's decisions for 'em, Anna."

"But _I_ was supposed to be watching Sophia. _I_ helped Carl get out there on the search. _I_ — I—" Anna swallowed hard, unable to say it.

"Nobody was able to save Sophia, not even Rick. You at least saved Carl when you dragged him under that car with you. Otis shot Carl, not you. And Marley tried to kill you – she made her choice," he said, resting a reassuring hand on her knee.

Anna huffed. She knew he was right. Of course he was. But that nagging voice in her head kept chanting at her.

 _Your fault._

 _Your fault._

"We should get them buried," Anna muttered, pulling herself to her feet. She knew she was deflecting, but this conversation was taking her to uncomfortable places. Places she wasn't ready to explore.


	6. Chapter Five

"You found them like this?"

Daryl grimaced. He'd gotten used to the putrid smell of rotting flesh – but burning flesh? It brought back memories he'd rather leave behind. In a small courtyard just off A Block were two bodies, burnt black and still smoldering. Karen and David.

"I came to see Karen… and I saw the blood on the floor," Tyreese explained, his voice low – numb. "Then I smelled them." His shoulders tensed. "Somebody dragged 'em out here and set 'em on fire!" He looked to the others, his eyes crazed. "They killed 'em and set 'em on fire!"

He stepped to Rick suddenly. Daryl came around, ready to intervene if Tyreese tried anything. There was no telling what was going through the man's mind except pain and rage.

"You're a cop. You find out who did this and you bring 'em to me. You understand? You bring 'em to me!"

Daryl walked forward. "We'll find out who—" The moment his hand landed on Tyreese the larger man threw his arm back.

"I need to say it again?"

"No. No. I know what you're feeling. I've been there. You saw me there," Rick said, his voice hushed as he tried to keep Tyreese calm. "It's dangerous."

"Karen didn't deserve this," Tyreese snapped. "David didn't deserve it. Nobody does."

Daryl stepped forward again, reaching out for the man. "Alright, man. Come on, let's—" He was suddenly pinned to a wall of bars, his back aching from the force with which Tyreese had used to slam him against the bars.

"Man, I ain't goin' nowhere till I find out who did this!

Daryl held out his hands as Rick and Carol rushed forward, but he met Tyreese's glare.

"We're on the same side, man."

"Hey, look, I know what you're going through," Rick started, reaching out for Tyreese. "We've all lost someone. We know what you're going through right now, but you've got to calm down—"

The moment Rick's hand landed on Tyreese's shoulder, the larger man threw Rick stumbling back.

"You need to step the hell back!" Tyreese snapped.

Rick straightened, his face pinched. Daryl could see that Rick was losing his patience, and he wasn't quite sure what to do other than position himself behind Tyreese again.

"She wouldn't want you bein' like this," Rick said evenly.

Tyreese reeled back and swung, his fist connecting with Rick's jaw with a loud smack, knocking Rick to the ground.

"Stop!" Carol cried. "Stop!"

Daryl jumped forward and wrapped his arms around Tyreese, holding him back before the man could go any further. Tyreese huffed and grunted, trying to break free of Daryl's grip.

"That's enough!"

Rick got to his feet, his fist flying at Tyreese. Daryl jumped out of the way, allowing Tyreese to fall to the ground from the force of Rick's punch. Rick followed through, not giving Tyreese any time to recover, kicking him onto his back before jumping on top of him, bringing his fist down over and over again.

"Stop!" Carol shrieked.

"That's enough!" Daryl demanded as he tried to pull Rick off of Tyreese.

"Let go of me!" Rick shouted.

"No."

"Let go of me!"

"No!" Daryl snapped, yanking Rick away from Tyreese. Rick threw Daryl's arms off him, his eyes wild as he stared at his surroundings. He looked to his bloodied fist, barely seeming to register where he was, what he'd done, the sounds of Tyreese's sobs.

.

.

"I thought this place would be different. I thought we would be safe," Susie sobbed, her body trembling where she sat cradled in Nicholas's arms. "It's just more of the same."

Anna remained silent as Nicholas murmured comfort into Susie's ear. The two had cornered her in the library, distraught over everything that had happened the day before. She'd thought they had come to her about Karen and David, but they had no idea about the latest development.

" _Karen and David are dead."_

 _Anna squeezed her eyes shut. That was two more names to add to the already long list of people they had lost to the sickness. "Okay…" she whispered. "I—I'll get their bodies ready for burial—"_

 _"No."_

 _She furrowed her brow, staring at Daryl. He wouldn't meet her eyes, his face pinched with pain._

 _"Daryl?"_

"Anna?"

Anna blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts and focused on the two people in front of her. "I'm sorry, I just—" she cut herself off.

It was inevitable that the others in the prison would eventually find out about Karen and David, but Anna was not about to be the one to let the cat out of the bag. She'd made too many mistakes. She wasn't about to let causing a panic be one of them.

"We're thinking of leaving."

Anna closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, gathering herself. "Do you think you'll be safer back out there?" She asked gently, opening her eyes and leveling them with an earnest gaze.

They didn't respond right away, unsure of themselves. She couldn't make them stay, no matter how much she might want to.

"I can't make you stay," she sighed, adjusting her position in her chair. "You're free to leave, if that's what you think is best."

Nicholas shook his head, leaning forward as he stared back at Anna. "Tell me that we'll be safer here than out there. Tell me that everything will be okay."  
"I can't."

Anna's chest constricted painfully at the devastated look on Susie's face and the agitated way Nicholas looked at her. Carefully, she reached down, holding Nicholas's gaze, and pinched her thigh through her jeans, the sharp pain in her skin distracting her from the pounding of her heart.

"All I know for certain is that this sickness – whatever it is – it'll pass. And out there... you don't have anyone watching your back. You don't have fences or walls keeping out the walkers."

Nicholas and Susie turned to each other, sharing a meaningful look before Nicholas looked back to Anna. He nodded once.

"Alright."

The door swung open and Anna tensed in her seat. The three of them turned to see Daryl striding into the library.

"Gonna need y'all to clear out. Council meetin'," he informed.

"Is everything okay?" Susie asked as they all stood from their seats.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, just decidin' what to do next. Don't worry," he assured.

"Let's give them some space to do their thing," Anna said, gesturing for them to leave the library. With a small smile to Daryl, Anna went to follow the two out of the room when his hand landed on her shoulder.

"Nah, you stay," Daryl said.

Anna furrowed her brow as she turned to him. "What's up?" She asked. Daryl didn't say anything until the door clicked shut behind Nicholas and Susie. He sighed.

"I know you didn't want to be on the council. But remember when we said we might need you to fill in?

Anna sucked in a breath. "Who?" She asked, her voice low.

"Sasha."

.

"It's spread," Hershel began. "Everyone who survived the attack in cell block D. Sasha, Caleb, and now others."

"Jesus," Daryl muttered from beside Anna at the table.

"So what do we do?" Carol asked.

"First things first. Cell block A is isolation. We keep the sick people there like we tried with Karen and David," Hershel explained.

"What the hell we gonna do about that?" Daryl pushed.

"Ask Rick to look into it," Carol suggested. "Try to make a timeline— who's where when."

"I can help Rick with that," Anna offered. The others nodded to her before Carol continued.

"What are we gonna do to stop this?"

"There is no stopping it. You get it, you have to go through it," Hershel stated.

"But it just kills you?"

Anna flinched at the sudden intrusion. They all turned to see Michonne standing there, watching them.

 _Fucking ninja,_ Anna thought.

"The illness doesn't," Hershel corrected. "The symptoms do. We need antibiotics."

"We've been through every pharmacy nearby," Daryl sighed. "And then some."

"That veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech, that's one place people may not have thought to raid for medication. The drugs for animals there are the same we need," Hershel said.

"That's 50 miles. Too big a risk before. Ain't now. I'm gonna take a group out," Daryl declared, standing from his chair. "Best not waste any more time."

"I'm in," Anna said, rising from her seat as well.

"Not you," Daryl shook his head, facing Anna. "We need you here."

"Are you keeping me on house arrest?" Anna snapped. She hadn't been on a run in three months. It had mostly been her decision, but Daryl had been more than happy to keep her on the bench.

Carol gently laid her hand on Anna's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "No, Anna, he's right. The others look to you a lot for guidance. You're our best hope of keeping them calm."

Anna sighed heavily. She couldn't deny their reasoning. The investigation of the murders of Karen and David would no doubt cause the prison to spiral into a full-blown panic. And while Rick had been busy tending his field, Anna had been cultivating relationships with the other survivors, getting to know them, gaining their trust.

"I'll go," Michonne assured, nodding at Anna. Anna sat back down, submitting to the council's decision. She wasn't happy about it but knowing Michonne would be out there watching Daryl's back, she felt a little better.

"You haven't been exposed," Hershel said. "Daryl has. You get in a car with him…"

Michonne smirked. "He's already given me fleas."

"I can lead the way," Hershel chuckled, pulling himself up to stand. "I know where everything's kept."

Daryl looked between the others before meeting Hershel's gaze. "When we're out there, it's always the same. Sooner or later we run."

"I can...draw you a map," Hershel conceded. "There are other precautions I feel we should take."

"Like what?" Carol asked.

"There's no telling how long it'll be before Daryl and his group return," Hershel began. "Wouldn't it make sense for us to separate the most vulnerable? We can use the administration building. Separate office, separate room."

"Who is the most vulnerable?" Glenn asked, clearing his throat.

"The very young."

"What about the old?"

.

Anna paced the length of her cell, her head throbbing in pain. There were too many problems the prison was facing and too few solutions Anna could think of, and now she found herself pretending to be a leader. The pressure was overwhelming, and she could feel herself bending under it.

Altogether, Anna felt useless. She had nothing to offer the prison, no way to help the people she cared about, and she felt awful.

The sound of fingers tapping against the bars of her and Daryl's cell called her attention and she ceased her pacing, turning towards the sound.

"Come in," she called, her voice rough. She shifted on her feet as Daryl pulled the bed sheet aside. "You know, you don't have to do that all the time, this is your cell too."

"I know," Daryl said, reaching under the bed for the backpack he stored there when not on runs. The same place she stored a 'bug-out' bag in case things went sideways. She'd never been much of an optimist.

"I should be going with you," Anna huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nah, we need you here," Daryl sighed, securing his roll of extra crossbow bolts to the side of his pack. "You know these people better than any of us."

The grimace Anna gave did not go unnoticed as Daryl dropped his bag onto the bed, still unmade from this morning, and turned to rest his hands on her shoulder. He forced her to look him in the eye.

"You ain't gotta worry. We're gonna come back with that medicine," Daryl assured. "But that ain't what's botherin' you is it?"

Anna bowed her head. "Not all of it."

She'd never seen the point in trying to hide how she was feeling from Daryl – he always seemed to know. She supposed that was a blessing in a way – she didn't have to try to explain everything going on in her head – but, it could be frustrating sometimes.

"There's just...there's just so much. There's the fences, the illness, the grieving, the murders, this run – I just feel so fucking useless."

"You're not useless," Daryl said, squeezing her shoulders. "You got a lot of shit to do here. Just take it one thing at a time. Prioritize. You don't have control over the sickness, so forget about that. Let me worry about the run—we'll be fine," he said, cutting Anna off before she could say anything. "Focus on keeping everyone busy while Rick does his investigation."

Anna took a deep breath, nodding her head, feeling the headache slowly ebb away into nothing.

"Prioritize. Right. I can do that."

"I gotta go get the car ready," Daryl said, dropping his hands from her shoulders to pick his backpack up.

"You come back. That's an order," Anna whispered.

Daryl stood straight, smirking down at her. "Yes ma'am."

"Daryl!" The curtain to their cell flung back, revealing Maggie staring wide-eyed at the two of them. "It's Glenn."

Without much more prompting, Daryl and Anna followed Maggie, racing down the stairs. Glenn leaned against the wall, drenched in sweat. He held out his hand.

"Don't," he said.

"We've already been exposed," Anna snapped, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Maggie, you haven't, though. You should stay back." Maggie set her jaw, ready to protest, but seemed to think better of it and nodded. Trying to ignore how hot Glenn's skin felt, Anna forced his feet forward.

"Let's get you to Dr. S. Come on man," Daryl said taking up Glenn's other arm. Maggie trailed after them as they made their way down to cell block A.


	7. Chapter Six

Daryl leaned under the hood, checking over everything in the sleek black car they would be taking for the run. It was a beautiful car, well taken care of, not great on mileage but it did its job without complaint. It had belonged to Zack.

Michonne's footsteps called his attention and he glanced up, seeing her leaning against the car.

"Son of a bitch is about a quart low," he explained, straightening.

"You still keep it in the bottom of tower three?" She asked, pushing off the car. He nodded. "I'll go get one,"

"Hey," he called before she could walk away. "I'm glad you're here."

Michonne furrowed her brow, turning her body to face him fully. "Where else would I be?"

"Running off," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Michonne stepped toward him. "You know I'm not running off."

Daryl nodded. He knew how important it was to find the Governor, to take him out. He was too much of a threat. It was the threat the Governor posed to the prison that made the council allow Michonne to leave as often as she did, hunting for him. He still didn't like it.

"So, it's just gonna be me and you? Like in the old days?" Michonne said, smiling.

"Yeah… and Bob," he said. "Still, feels like we could us another person."

"Why not Anna? Who else isn't sick?"

It had been almost three months since Anna last left the safety of the prison. She'd gone with Daryl on his hunts for a while, learning to track – he'd even shown her how to use his crossbow. The last time Anna went out was on a run with Rick. The two had brought back a cache of supplies, but that was the last time either of them had left the prison, and both had refused to talk about what happened with anyone – even Daryl.

"We don't ask Rick," Daryl declared, pulling himself from his thoughts. "He wants to stay here with Carl and Little Ass-Kicker. And Anna's better off here, dealing with people, keepin' 'em busy, calm."

Michonne nodded. "So, who else we got?"

.

.

It was one thing for Sasha, Glenn, and Daryl to go out on runs - they never took unnecessary risks and they always came back. It was an entirely different thing when Daryl went on a high-risk mission with only three other people – two of which hadn't officially been cleared to go on a run. Under normal circumstances, Anna would have advised against Tyreese joining the others on the run, especially after he attacked Daryl and Rick. And Bob still hadn't come to see her.

But, not only were they losing Daryl – temporarily – but they also lost Sasha and Glenn to the sickness while Hershel was put in isolation along with the children. They had no choice but to allow them to go.

That also left Carol with Anna acting as an understudy to the other council members. Leading was something Anna didn't exactly have experience with. The only reason she'd been offered a seat on the council was because of the rapport she had cultivated with the survivors of the prison.

Now, Anna was in over her head, standing in front of a small group of unaffected people while Carol directed the sickly into cell block A. She had no idea what she was supposed to do or where she should start.

 _Prioritize,_ she reminded herself. _I just have to prioritize._

"Okay," she began, clapping her hands in front of her. She looked around at the twelve faces before her – five of which had volunteered to bury the fallen from cell block D. "I know this is pretty rough – but we're survivors. We deal with this like we do with everything else. We push forward."

Anna didn't know when it had gotten easier to deliver a speech to the people of the prison, but she figured it had something to do with all the time she spent with them – in S.A., in counselling sessions, and when doing odd jobs around the prison.

"We're going to focus our efforts on the fences. Split up into groups of four and I'll assign you sections of the fence to work on," she declared, pulling a notepad and pen from her pocket and turning to the fence.

For the most part, the walkers had dispersed since the initial scare of the fence giving way, but they were still grouping up. In Milton's journals, he had observed that walkers were a kind of pack creature, following each other to meals. He had hypothesized that that was how herds formed.

At the moment, there were three big sections of walker pileups and one smaller section that could be handled by a single person.

"What's the point?"

Anna grimaced and turned back to the crowd to see one man, Steven, walking forward and addressing the others.

"This place is falling apart. It's no safer than out there – so what's the point? Our kids are in isolation, over half the council is gone or sick and in isolation. What is the damn point?"

"The point…" Anna said, stepping forward. "...is that we're still here, and if we want to keep it that way, keep this place safe, keep our loved ones safe, we need to clear the fences. So grab a poker and find a partner," she said. She was only a few inches away from Steven, staring up at him, her face and eyes hard. "Now, is that a problem for you?" she asked, her voice low, challenging.

She could see just beyond him the others staring more than a little astonished at the exchange. A few seemed to even be a little annoyed – whoever they were annoyed at, she didn't really care. There were things to be done and she wasn't about to let Steven – or anyone – get in the way of that.

His jaw clenched as he glared back at her. Anna knew Steven was the type of guy who didn't like to be challenged, a guy who needed to prove himself as better than everyone else. So, she narrowed her eyes and tilted her head.

"Unless you'd feel better fetching water?"

Steven bristled. "Think I can't handle the fence, little girl? Think I'm scared?" He jabbed his finger into her chest before he shoved past her and snatched up one of the many pokers hanging from the inner fence, storming down the field toward one of the bigger sections of walkers.

Anna watched him as he started ramming the end of his poker into the heads of the nearest walkers, throwing curses to the wind. She turned to the others, a grin on her face.

"Who wants to be his partner?"

.

.

The engine roared as Daryl sped down the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other scratching at his beard.

Everyone was silent, the atmosphere in the car tense. Daryl couldn't help but notice the expression on Michonne's face. Whatever she was thinking, she wasn't happy about it.

"Hey," Daryl called, glancing between her and the road. "I know you weren't running off. The thing is, that trail went cold. You know that, right?" Michonne said nothing, keeping her eyes trained ahead of her. "If it was any different, I'd be right out there with you."

Michonne finally looked to him with an expression half-way between _I know_ and _stop talking_. Daryl didn't know why he felt the need to tell her any of it – he knew that Michonne understood why he wasn't out there looking for the Governor just as much as he understood why she was.

Having said what he wanted to, Daryl sighed and started fiddling with the radio. As expected, he was met with static, and Michonne reached into the glovebox for the book of CDs Zack kept.

" _...find sanctuary._ "

"Was that a voice?" Bob asked. Daryl shushed him and turned the volume up, turning the dial slowly, trying to find a clear station.

"... _determine to survive...Keep alive._ "

Daryl looked over at Michonne. It was a voice. A real voice. Calling out in the static for other survivors.

And then he looked back to the road in time for a female walker to slam against the hood of the car, followed by another, and another. He turned the wheel this way and that, trying to avoid the walkers while maintaining control of the vehicle. He finally slammed on the breaks, the tires squealing as they came to a halt.

In front of them, and quickly surrounding them, was the largest herd of walkers Daryl had ever seen.

"Grab somethin'!" He called, looking over his shoulder, throwing the car in reverse and pressing the gas petal to the floor. Daryl drove backwards as fast as he could. Unable to maneuver around the walkers behind them, he drove over them until the back of the car went up and they lost traction on the tires.

"Shit!"

"Go to the left!"

"We're jammed up!" Daryl declared. He looked around for any possible escape when he saw gaps in the crowd. "Make a run for the gaps right there!" He turned to Bob and Tyreese. "You two, you make a run for the woods and you don't stop for nothing, you hear me?"

Bob nodded, his face terrified. Beside him, Tyreese stared blankly at nothing. There wasn't time to worry; he had to trust that Tyreese would follow his instructions.

"Now!"

Daryl shoved the sunroof open and climbed up, aiming and firing his crossbow at a walker baring down on Michonne. He climbed the rest of the way out of the car and, pulling his knife from its sheath on his hip, slid down the windshield, then rammed his knife into the head of the closest walker.

Before the others could fall on him, Daryl ripped the knife from the walker's head and took off towards the woods.

.

.

"Good job everyone!" Anna called, grinning at the men and women who had worked so diligently on the fence with her as they trickled past, exhausted. They had made a considerable dent in the pile-ups, leaving only a few stragglers that were slowly filtering out of the woods.

Her smile fell as Rick came into view, his expression grim as he approached her.

"We need to talk," he said, gesturing with his head for her to follow him further away from the slowly retreating group.

"Is everything okay? What did you find out?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She couldn't help the anxiety building in the pit of her stomach, but she forced herself to remain calm as she waited for Rick to answer.

"It— Ah, hell!" He hissed, looking over her shoulder before he took off towards a gap in the fence. Anna turned, and her eyes landed on Carol, who was crouched on the foot bridge trying to clear the water hose. Too many walkers were converging on her.

"Shit!"

She took off after Rick as he started shouting for Carol to run, and Anna followed him out of the gap in the chain-link. She pulled her knife and made her way towards the foot bridge, shoving her blade into a walker that got just a little too close. Anna turned her attention back to Carol, only to see a walker lumbering in her direction.

Rick was the one to take it out with his Python before Carol finally ran towards them, her knife out as she kicked another walker away from her.

The three of them ran back to the gap and slid through, quickly securing it with wire and clasps, their breathing labored. Anna put her hands behind her head, trying to open up her airways as her chest burned.

"Piece of cake," Carol breathed with a grin.

"We decided to do that tomorrow," Rick snapped. The smile on Carol's face fell away.

"We don't know if we get a tomorrow," Carol countered before walking away.

Anna shook her head, staring after her. "What the hell was that all about?" She asked, once Carol was out of ear shot.

Rick kept his eyes trained on Carol's retreating form, his face hard and jaw set.

.

It had gotten dark an hour ago. There wasn't much to do without the sun, so Anna sent everyone to bed. Exhausted with the day's efforts, Anna retreated to her own cell and changed into her night clothes.

She stared at the empty bed, the purple quilt bunched up at the end. Anna had never gotten into the habit of making it and it seemed neither had Daryl. The thought made her smile, until she remembered that Daryl wasn't going to be tapping his fingers against the bars tonight. She wasn't going to fall asleep to his steady breathing.

It wasn't the first time she had to sleep without him since they started sharing a cell, but it never really got easier. She was used to having his warmth beside her when she woke up from a nightmare, having him to talk to on nights neither of them could fall asleep.

Without a second thought, Anna shoved her feet back into her boots and left the cell. She wasn't exactly sure where she was headed, and she wandered the dark corridors until she found herself in the visitation room of cell block A.

Sighing, Anna pulled up a chair and sat in front of the shatter proof window. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes. Why had she come here of all places? No one was expecting her. No one was going to come.

Until someone did.

"Hey."

Anna's head shot up, eyes wide. Standing there, on the other side of the window, was Glenn, eyes rimmed red and skin glistening with sweat as he staggered further into the room to take a seat in front of her.

"You look like shit," Anna blurted, immediately grimacing at herself.

"Thanks," Glenn laughed weakly.

There was a pause, both sitting slouched in their chairs as they watched each other.

"How did you know I was here?" She asked.

"I was just coming to check if there were any visitors before everyone went to bed," Glenn explained with a shrug. "What are you doing here?"

Anna pursed her lips.

"Couldn't sleep."

Glenn nodded and looked over his shoulder before turning back to her.

"I have trouble sleeping without Maggie, too."

Anna glanced away, her cheeks heating. She never thought she would be one of those girls that couldn't function without her significant other. Marley had been like that and it had irritated Anna to no end.

She shook her head; she didn't want to start thinking of Marley.

"You need to get better, Rhee, before someone snatches her up," she said with a teasing smirk.

"You better be keeping the vultures away," Glenn chided, glaring back at her.

The two broke into a fit of laughter and for a moment it seemed like everything was going to be okay, until Glenn started coughing. His whole body shook, one hand covering his mouth, the other holding his ribs.

Anna reached out, pressing her fingers against the glass, as if she could reach through and touch him, as if it would help.

"Are you okay?" She asked when his coughing died down. He shook his head and smiled at her.

"I'm alright," he assured. She didn't buy it. Not for a second.

"Glenn…" Anna could feel the sting of tears rimming her eyelids and the tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe. "You have to get better. I can't do this on my own."

"Hey," he called, his voice hoarse. "I'll be out of here soon. It'll be okay."


	8. Chapter Seven

Daryl and Bob picked their way through the aisles of the convenience store/gas station/auto-shop, shoving supplies into plastic bags. It was lucky they had happened upon it the day after they lost their ride to the Vet college, because hidden in some foliage outside the store was a big green van with a full tank of gas. Of course, Daryl wasn't about to start thinking their luck had changed – he didn't want to jinx it.

Instead, he opted to keep his mind on the task, getting this job done and heading home. He hoped that Rick had found the asshole who had killed Karen and David, and he hoped Anna was doing alright helping Carol lead.

"So, how come Anna didn't come on this run?"

Daryl glanced over his shoulder at Bob before looking back at the rack of notebooks and shoving a few in a plastic bag.

"Better she stays back and hold down the fort," Daryl said, grabbing a handful of pens from the same rack.

"I heard she used to go on runs all the time – that she's a pretty good shot," Bob pushed, circling around to stand beside Daryl. "What happened?"

Daryl shrugged, keeping his face carefully neutral. He didn't know what happened, and he had never known how to ask her – if she would even tell him. She had told him a lot of things, but she always seemed to be holding something back.

Rather than answer Bob, Daryl trudged towards the door. He stopped when he spotted something on the floor.

"That's puke," Daryl grimaced, shining his flashlight at a puddle of dried, bloody vomit staining the linoleum. Bob stepped up beside him. "Those douchebags in the vines took themselves out, holdin' hands— kumbaya style."

"They wanted to go out together same as they lived. That make them douchebags?" Bob countered as the two continued.

"It does if they could have gotten out."

"Everybody makes it, till they don't," Bob said earnestly. "People nowadays are dominoes. What they did, maybe it's about not having to watch them fall."

Daryl thought for a moment about Bob's words and then of Anna, that night in Atlanta in a dark bathroom, hand on her gun.

.

.

"We need to put all of our focus on the fences," Anna started as she strolled out to the courtyard where the others had gathered to wait on her. Their numbers had depleted overnight. Six people had come down with the sickness and went into A block.

"Where's Carol?" Steven asked from the back of the group.

"She and Rick went on a run. Is there something I can help you with?" Anna asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"No. You aren't on the council," he snapped.

 _This again?_

"And your point is?" Anna asked, unable to keep the irritation from her voice.

"My point is, little girl, I'm tired of listening to you," Steven sneered, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. "Why are you in charge? Because you're screwing Daryl? Give me one good reason why any of us should listen to you."

Anna breathed deeply and clenched her jaw, trying to calm her nerves as whispers spread through the group. He was completely wrong about the status of her and Daryl's relationship. They hadn't taken things to that level. But he had a point. She didn't have any business standing in front of these people, telling them what to do.

"You listen to the council?" Maggie's voice rang out over the murmurs of the small audience, effectively quieting them as she made her way to stand beside Anna.

"Well, yeah, of course. But they—" Steven said.

"They put her in charge," Maggie said, cutting him off. She leveled him with a hard glare, daring him to say something more.

Steven's face turned red and his nostrils flared, and he looked ready to challenge her when one of the others clapped him on the shoulder.

"Just drop it, dude."

"If you don't like it, you can always leave. No one is forcing you to stay here," Maggie suggested.

Steven grunted, shrugging the man's hand off his shoulder before stalking off towards the fences, snatching up a poker on his way.

Maggie clapped her hands together and turned back to the group. "Alright, you heard Anna – grab a poker and get to work!" It was chaos for a few minutes as the six picked up their tools and an apron and headed for the fences.

"How's Glenn? And your dad?" Anna asked as the two women followed the others down to the fences, pokers and aprons in hand.

When Rick and Carol left for their run, they had left Anna and Maggie in complete charge of the prison. It was utterly draining, and Anna couldn't fathom how the others had managed for so long. She supposed it helped when there was five people running things.

"They're alright. When I went to visit Glenn was resting – he and Sasha have been helpin' my dad," Maggie explained. The worried look on her face didn't go unnoticed as she glanced away.

"I wish I could say for sure they'll be okay," Anna said quietly, recalling her visit with Glenn the night previous – she didn't think it was necessary to tell Maggie about that, though.

"You could always lie," Maggie chuckled, wiping at her cheeks. "But, thank you for being honest."

"I wish I had Evan's optimism," Anna sighed. "I know you never met him, but he could see the bright side to any situation."

"What happened to him?"

"The same thing that always happens."

There was a long pause, a palpable grief stretching between the two women. This world just took and took and took. It pushed back against all efforts to survive, like a wave crashing down on everything they had built; all any of them could do was try to stand against the tide.

"Dad asked how you were doing," Maggie finally said, breaking the silence and changing the subject.

Anna grimaced. "I could be doing better at this whole leadership thing," she huffed.

"You're doing fine," Maggie assured.

Anna shook her head with a grimace. "Nah, I'm with Steven on this one – there's no good reason for me to be in charge."

"The council put you in charge because they trust your judgment and your relationship with these people," Maggie said, turning to face Anna fully.

"Only relationship I have with them is as a therapist – and I'm not even that. I'm not a leader, Maggie," Anna insisted earnestly. "I wish Daryl was still here… and the rest of the council – I'm not cut out for this."

"You're better at this than you think," Maggie sighed, continuing down the dirt path. Anna jogged to catch up, Maggie's long legs carrying her faster than Anna's shorter ones. "The people are listening to you – and before you say anything, Steven is an ass."

Anna smiled weakly as the two finally approached the fence, a small herd of walkers pushing against the chain-link. Sobering, Anna tied her apron around her and shoved her hands into a pair of work gloves.

"Let's get to work," Anna said. Maggie nodded, her face set in a grim expression.

"We all have a job to do."

.

.

"You never told us about the group you were with before," Daryl said, a cigarette between his lips as he secured the battery into the van.

"Which one?" Bob asked, blowing out a steady stream of smoke.

Daryl nodded, grabbing the distilled water and pouring it over the battery. He wasn't about to push a topic Bob didn't want to talk about.

"You know, when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking," Bob finally said after a moment.

"Why is that?" Daryl asked.

"'Cause I was done being a witness."

Daryl didn't outwardly show it, but his full attention was on Bob now as he stared down at the car battery.

"Two times, two different groups. I was the last one standing. Like I was supposed to see it happen over and over, like it's some kind of curse." Daryl looked at him then. "But, when it's just you out there with the quiet…" he trailed off. "Used to be I'd drink a bottle of anything just so I could shut my eyes at night." Bob took another drag on his cigarette. "Figured the prison, the people, thought it'd be easier. The run to the Big Spot, I did it for me."

Daryl shrugged. "You gotta keep busy."

"No," Bob said firmly. "I did it so I could get me a bottle. Of anything. I picked it up, I held it in my hand, but I put it down. I put it down so hard it took the whole damn shelf with it. That's what brought on the walkers, and that's what got Zack killed."

"That's bullshit," Daryl snapped, snatching the cigarette from his lips and gesturing to the van. "Why don't you get in there and try the engine – it's the red and the green wire." He didn't want to have the same conversation with Bob that he had already had multiple times with Anna. Sometimes bad things just happened, and more so now than before. "Go on. It ain't rocket science. Give it some gas."

Bob rounded the van and climbed into the driver's seat. After a few seconds the engine sputtered to life, and Daryl clapped his hands in triumph, taking another drag on his cigarette.

He walked around the van and leaned into the driver's side door, leveling Bob with a hard stare.

"Sasha and me picked that spot. We took you with us. There ain't no way anybody could've known," Daryl insisted. Bob looked back at him, his face pained. "You ain't gonna be standing alone. Not no more."


	9. Chapter Eight

"It's all expired by at least a year," Carol said from the adjacent room.

"Better to take it. Let Hershel decide what he needs," Rick said, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. He could hear her sifting through the nightstand on the far side of the bedroom. "Did you think it was right?" He asked. "Letting those kids come back with us?" He hadn't stopped thinking about the way Carol looked at him when he asked the three questions.

"I think it was the humane thing to do."

"But did you think it was right?"

"Look at us," Carol scoffed. "Digging through drawers, hoping that a couple of cough drops and some disinfectant might be the difference between dying and living a couple more hours," she said. "If they're strong enough to help us survive this then yeah, I think you made the right call."

"And if they're not?"

"Let's hope they are."

Neither of them said anything for a long, tense moment, until finally Carol spoke again.

"This is the first time you've been on a run in a while."

"Yeah."

"And Anna hasn't been since the two of you went together." Rick made no outward reaction as he carried a handful of pill bottles out into the bedroom and added them to the pile of findings Carol had already created on the bed between them. He knew what she was about to ask as she straightened from where she leaned against the nightstand and stared at him. "What happened on that run?"

Rick bowed his head, his thoughts falling back to that day three months ago. Had it been so long? It was supposed to be a simple supply run.

 _"Shit!" Rick hissed, yanking hard on the walker's shoulders. He threw it on its back and with the handle of his revolver, bashed its face in, the black blood spraying across his face._

 _Breathing heavily, he straightened and extended a hand to Anna, who was still sprawled on the ground, her face blank as she stared at the sky._

 _"You...alright?" Rick asked. She didn't answer as she accepted his hand and got to her feet._

 _He watched her as she dusted herself off, checking her body for damage._

 _"Why didn't you fight back?" Rick couldn't help but think that maybe it had been too soon after the trip to Fort Benning. Since Marley's death. That was the real reason Anna had insisted on this run. She hadn't said as much, but he knew._

 _She shrugged and tried to brush past him, but Rick grabbed her elbow and pulled her back to face him. Anna glared up at him._

" _What do you want me to say Rick?"_

" _This is about Marley, isn't it?" Pain flashed in her dark eyes and she looked away, jerking her arm from his grasp. Rick adjusted his stance and tilted his head. "You chose me to come with you for a reason – because you knew I would understand."_

" _Understand what?" She challenged._

" _The guilt." Her eyes finally met his again, and they glinted with tears. "She was your best friend." He thought of Shane._

" _I can't stop thinking about her. How do I move forward? How did you?"_

 _Rick shook his head. "Marley... she was going to kill you – us. You had to."_

" _I know!" She covered her face with her hands and let out a frustrated groan. "I know…," she said, quieter this time. "Do you—" she paused, dropping her hands to her sides as she stared off down the road in the direction of the prison so many miles away. "Do you think we can ever come back from the things we've done?"_

 _He had asked himself the same question many times. He had done so many terrible things, made too many mistakes._

"I guess we both just agreed to have hope that we can come back from… all of it."

Carol scoffed. "So, the two of you just want to pretend like we're the same people we used to be?"

"No, not the same. But better than this world is trying to make us out to be."

"Rick, I killed two people and you haven't said a word about it."

"What do you want me to say?"

"It's not about what you say. It's about facing reality," she snapped. "It always comes for us and over and over again we face it so that we can live."

"So that _we_ can live," Rick said earnestly.

"That's right. That's what it always comes down to," she said, nodding. "You can be a farmer, Rick. You can't _just_ be a farmer. You're a good leader. Better than I probably gave you credit for."

"I never murdered two of our own."  
"Just one," Carol sneered.

"He was gonna kill me."

"So were they. They were gonna kill all of us."

Carol considered him for a moment, realizing he wasn't convinced.

"If you thought it would save Judith or Carl, would you have done it then or would you have just gone back to your crops and hoped it'd all be okay?" She asked, her voice a little harsh as she stepped towards him. "You don't have to like what I did, Rick. I don't. You just accept it."

.

.

Anna passed Hershel the needed medical supplies through the door. She wasn't worried about getting sick. If she was going to, she would have by now. Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same for the others. It was down to just her and Maggie to work the fence now.

"Thank you for this," Hershel said, pushing the door closed and stepping over to the shatter proof visitation window.

Anna nodded quietly, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

"Are you alright, Anna?" Hershel asked, setting the basket down on the gurney pushed against the wall.

"I—" her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "I'm fine," she assured.

"We all have jobs to do… but it doesn't help when we aren't honest with ourselves," Hershel chided gently.

"Aren't I supposed to be the therapist here?" She asked, mustering a small, half-hearted smirk.

Hershel didn't smile back. Instead, he cocked an expectant eyebrow at her, waiting. She bowed her head, the smirk falling from her face, and when she said nothing, Hershel stepped away from the window, his back towards A block.

"You've changed a lot since I first met you on the farm – but I can see that you're trying to be that same person again," he said.

Anna looked up at him, standing in the threshold and staring at her with that knowing look of his.

"Not the same… just…," she paused, shaking her head, "better, I guess." She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "Better than who I was… who I was becoming."

Anna looked to her hands and saw them shaking. She brushed it off as her blood sugar being low, but she knew the real reason.

"I—" she cut herself off.

Did she really want to unload on Hershel? She thought she was past needing to talk about it – she thought she was dealing with it on her own. She hadn't talked to Daryl or Glenn about it, the two people she was closest to at the prison. She didn't think they would understand – not like Rick had.

"We've all had to do things we aren't proud of," Hershel started. "Things we'd rather forget. But we do them so that we can survive, so that the people we love can survive." He took a step forward and Anna took a step back, her hands clenched at her sides.

"I don't know if I deserve to survive."

"Can I tell you something?" Hershel asked. Anna gave a small nod. "The fact that you're feeling remorse and trying to be better tells me you do."

.

The moment Anna stepped out onto the catwalk the tears started falling. Her whole body shuddered with each ragged breath as she staggered towards the watch tower. She stumbled and caught herself on the railing.

 _Why is this so hard?_

She'd written scenes before where a character had to kill another. As a writer you had to imagine some of the most unspeakable things. But what she had imagined and what she had done didn't match up. Pulling the trigger was easy – it was easy to kill. But the aftermath? Having to live with the guilt? That was the hard part.

Anna crouched down and sat against the tower wall, her legs splayed out in front of her, her mind throbbing and her chest constricting with guilt. She bowed her head and stared at the grate. If she tried hard enough, she could still see the blood from the Woodbury soldier staining the metal.

Reaching down, she pinched her thigh through her jeans, wincing at the pain.

She heard the door creaking open and the sound of boots walking across the catwalk. Anna didn't look up until the person stopped in front of her and dusty brown cowboy boots came into her view. She squinted past the sun as she stared up at Rick.

"Carol?" Anna asked. She knew – of course she knew. It was in Rick's face any time he looked at the woman. He was terrible at hiding things. Just like Anna.

"She admitted to it. Tyreese—" Rick shifted on his feet and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Tyreese would have killed her… and I wouldn't have her here. I sent her away."

Anna nodded, looking back to the blood on the grate.

"What makes her so different from us, Rick?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, cracking under the strain of her emotions. The tears were still streaming down her face and she was thankful Rick hadn't said anything about it.

Rick crouched and raised his eyebrows, his eyes trying to convey the gravity of his decision.

"Sending her away was the right choice, for the prison and for her. She's safer out there than she would have been here with Tyreese – once he found out—" Rick sighed. "This is her chance to be better."

"Can we be better?" Anna shook her head, finally wiping at the tears. "This world just keeps throwing bullshit at us, and we just—" she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw nothing but red.

They'd been here before. Three months ago, they'd decided that they would keep trying. Anna had allowed herself to think that maybe Rick was been right. Now here she was, crying like a damn fool, losing a battle she was never meant to fight.

Rick wrapped his fingers around her wrists and pulled her hands away from her eyes. He squeezed her left wrist, pushing the thin metal chain into her skin, reminding her that it was there.

"We knew this wouldn't be easy. But we can't just give up again. We can't become those people again. Not here, not now." Rick insisted. Pleaded really.

Anna stared back at him.

"That's not what I'm afraid of," she said, her hands shaking in his. Her nightmares were never of death. Her nightmares were of the wreckage left in the aftermath. "Rick, what if nothing we do will ever make up for it? I… I don't know if I can live with the guilt, pretend that everything is okay, and just be _happy_." She spat the last word like a curse.

"I know— God, I know," Rick said, running his hand down his face.

She could see the pain in it. He was thinking of Shane, of his wife, his son. He knew better than anyone. That was why she chose him for that run three months ago and not Daryl or Glenn, or anyone else.

"Maybe… maybe living with that guilt – that pain- maybe that's our penance," Anna whispered.

"Or maybe it's our only redemption."


	10. Chapter Nine

The walkers were piling up again, and they weren't sure how long the fences would last against the ever growing herd. Out in the field, Rick and Maggie were chopping wood and loading the poles onto the pickup to fortify the chain-link, while Anna stood at the grill cooking up some food for A block.

Anna wiped the sweat from her brow as she flipped the rations of meat over the fire.

 _Look at me,_ she thought. _All domestic and shit._

Anna put a hand on her hip, feeling the noticeable absence of her gun. She hadn't carried since returning from her run with Rick three months ago. They'd both agreed that it would be better if they didn't. The council hadn't been exactly happy. Recently, though, Rick had started carrying again, his Python hanging from his belt like some cowboy from those old westerns her father loved.

If she were being honest, after what happened earlier in the day – the conversation with Rick – she was glad she wasn't packing. Anna didn't trust herself. How could she?

After calming down, Anna had wandered down to the courtyard where she absentmindedly started cleaning – something her mother used to do when she got overwhelmed. Somehow, the cleaning led to cooking, and Anna found herself lost in it.

Until a familiar sound rang out.

 _POP!_

Anna turned towards the prison, for a moment unsure of what she heard.

 _POP!_

The tongs she'd been holding clattered to the ground and she took off towards A block. Anna could hear Maggie quickly gaining on her, their boots smacking against the pavement as they pushed through the doors and raced together down the corridors.

Anna's chest tightened with the effort, but she pushed forward, willing her legs to carry her alongside the taller, axe wielding woman. The two skidded to a halt the moment they reached the entrance to A block.

Inside was chaos. Survivors clamoring for safety, walkers reaching for food.

"Dad!" Maggie cried, banging her hand against the door. "Dad! Open the door!"

Anna stepped up, wrapped both hands around the handle, and yanked as hard as she could. It wouldn't budge.

"Move!" Maggie demanded, and the moment Anna stepped out of the way, the axe came barreling down on the window with a thud. Maggie let out a cry of frustration as she brought the axe down again, this time at the seam of the door.

"Come on!" Maggie growled, pulling on the axe, trying to free it.

Anna looked frantically between the axe and the people on the other side of the door. The handle splintered and snapped in Maggie's hand.

"Damn it!" Maggie stepped back, drawing her side arm, and aimed at the window, ready to fire when a woman – Matilda – pressed her face against the glass, crying to be saved.

"Move!" Maggie demanded again, but Matilda was too panicked to understand.

"Visitation!" Anna said. "The window shouldn't be bullet proof!"

And with that, the two took off, leaving Matilda to bang on the door.

It took them less than a minute to make their way to visitation, and Maggie didn't waste a second of time as she fired a single shot into the window. It shattered on impact, and the two climbed through the new entrance.

Maggie ran in first, flashlight shining wildly in the dark corridor, Anna following close behind, her knife drawn. They rounded the corner and ran down the block, Maggie firing a quick shot at a walker as it stood in her way.

They looked around for any sign of survivors, then something moving above them caught Anna's eye. Maggie shined her flashlight at the ceiling, and there was Hershel, struggling with a walker on a chain-link net put in place to prevent anyone from falling from the second floor.

"Daddy!" Maggie called. She raised her gun, ready to fire at the walker in front of her father.

"No! You could hit the bag! We need it for Glenn!"

"Where is he?" Anna shouted, her mind and body tensing.

"Cell 100!"

Without a second thought Anna took off, flying up the stairs two at a time until she reached cell 100, where Glenn lay on his back on the floor, his face turning blue as blood and vomit spilled from his mouth.

Anna fell to her knees and pulled him into her lap, forcing him onto his side.

"Come on, Rhee. Don't you give up on me now!" She snapped as he gasped for breath.

 _POP!_

A few seconds later, Maggie appeared across from Anna, her hands shakily checking over his body.

"Dad!"

Half a minute later, Hershel limped into view, clambering down to the floor.

"Roll him on his back," Hershel instructed, pouring a bottle of alcohol over the tube of an oxygen squeeze bag. Anna and Maggie did as they were told, but when Glenn started gagging and gurgling on his own blood and vomit, Anna was ready to roll him over again.

"Dad," Maggie pleaded.

"Hold his arms down," Hershel said

They pinned his arms to his sides, trying their best to ignore Glenn's convulsions.

"Come on, son. Come on, you know how this works." Anna grimaced in a mix of fear and disgust as she watched Hershel guide the breathing tube down Glenn's throat. "Stay with us. Stay with us," Hershel muttered as he attached the squeeze bag to the tube.

With the first squeeze of the bag, Glenn's breathing evened out and Maggie let out a sigh of relief. Air was getting into his lungs. Anna's whole body seemed to deflate as she fell back against the bunk behind her. Her chest heaved, and she winced at the tightness, bringing her arms up behind her head to open up her own airways.

"You're gonna be okay," Maggie whispered to Glenn. She planted a light kiss on his lips. "We're gonna be okay."

"I didn't want you in here," Hershel said, looking between the two of them.

"I know…," Maggie sighed, looking from Anna to her father and back to Glenn. "We had to… just like you."

The sound of small footsteps called everyone's attention and the three turned to see Lizzie leaning into the cell, staring at Glenn's limp body.

"I told you to stay put," Hershel said.

"Is it over?" The little girl asked.

"I hope so, honey," Maggie replied.

Anna let her head fall back against the mattress, focusing on steadying her breathing.

 _It's never over._

.

Anna collapsed on the bed, hunched over with her elbows on her knees. Her whole body ached as she massaged the back of her neck. She reached over and switched on the bedside lantern, bathing the cell in a harsh white glow.

She looked around the small room, at all the little decorations and knick-knacks. Finally, she looked at the blue chest in the corner and thought of what was tucked away underneath her clothes.

After tonight – after everything – she couldn't hide it away anymore. _She_ couldn't hide away anymore.

There was a soft tapping against the bars, pulling her thoughts away from the chest, and a weak smile played at her lips.

"Come in," she called quietly.

The bed sheet moved aside, and Daryl stepped inside the cell, placing his crossbow in the corner at the foot of their bed.

Anna stood and stepped into him, wrapped her arms around his torso and held him as tightly as she could muster, afraid that he would disappear. She breathed him in, soaked in his warmth.

"Sorry I'm late," he drawled, his arms winding around her as he rested his chin atop her head. "Traffic was a bitch."

Anna let out a short laugh before she pulled away to look at him. It felt like ages since she last saw his face. She opened her mouth for a quip, but her mind went blank as she stared at him. She was too exhausted for banter.

So, instead, she kissed him. She kissed him long and hard, entirely focused on him until she forgot everything. Until she couldn't think about the losses they hey had piled up in the last few days. Until she didn't care about her inner turmoil.

They finally pulled apart, chests heaving.

"I missed you, too," Daryl muttered, pulling her close to him, his face in her hair.

A content smile spread across her face until a thought crossed her mind. A single name. A single concern.

Carol.

.

The cell was dark. They'd laid down for bed roughly a couple of hours ago, but Anna couldn't sleep. With Daryl lying beside her for the first time in days, she felt off. She thought she'd be happy to have him back, to curl into his side and finally get some rest. But for some god forsaken reason, she couldn't get what Steven had said the other day out of her mind.

Anna slipped her hand out of Daryl's and rubbed at her face with a quiet groan.

"What's wrong?"

She jumped. Anna had assumed Daryl had fallen asleep already, with how even his breathing was.

"Nothing," She stammered.

"Liar," Daryl grumbled, adjusting his head on his pillow. Anna glanced at him, seeing that he'd yet to open his eyes. She was grateful, as she could feel her face heating.

"I… I was thinking about something someone said the other day." She cursed herself as soon as the words left her mouth. Was she really ready to talk about this?

"Yeah, and?"

"He said…" she trailed off, trying to construct her sentence carefully. He waited for her to finish, but his silence made her all the more flustered. So she just came out with it. "Steven said the only reason I was put in charge was because we were having sex."

Daryl's eyes shot open and he choked on air. Anna winced. She could've found a gentler way to put it.

"What did you say?" He asked.

She shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I didn't know what to say – I mean, he was wrong… we aren't—" she stopped herself, fumbling over how awkward the night had turned. And then a thought came to her. "Does that bother you?"

"No," Daryl said almost immediately. "I get it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah…"

Anna furrowed her brow. "It's not that I don't want to. I just—" she swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. "I can't… not yet."

"I know," he whispered, turning onto his side. He gazed at her, his expression unreadable as he took her hand, pulling it towards him. "It's alright," he assured.

"When we do, though, it's gonna be awesome," Anna blurted out, unable to handle the tension in the air. He scoffed at her, shaking his head. "I'm serious – I'm gonna rock your world, Daryl Dixon – best you'll ever have."

"Right," he chuckled, turning over to lay on his back again.

Anna grinned in the dark at him, before she rolled onto her side, pressing her back to the cool wall. "Mark my words," she muttered, feeling her body finally start to relax.

"Go to sleep," he whispered.

.

The next day, Anna was out helping Michonne drag bodies from A block and onto the trailer hooked up to the jeep.

She tried to ignore the nagging feeling in her chest, brushing it off as more guilt - this time for not telling Daryl about Carol. She'd agreed to let Rick tell him, so she'd been avoiding Daryl for most of the morning, which only added to her guilt.

Anna was a cluster fuck of guilt these days and she had no idea how she was going to actually deal with it. She'd meant what she said to Rick, though. Maybe the guilt was their penance. And maybe he was right – maybe it was also their redemption. But she wasn't so sure she could be redeemed.

"Thanks for helping me," Michonne grunted as they dropped another body in the pile.

Anna nodded, straightening with her hands on her hips. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of her 9mm strapped to her hip and she tensed. She'd have to get used to its presence again.

She forced herself to relax when she noticed the way Michonne was looking at her.

"Let's get the last body and we'll head out," Anna suggested, jumping from the trailer to the ground.

The two walked side by side into A block in silence until Michonne spoke.

"You're carrying again," she commented, her eyes trained in front of her.

Anna clenched her jaw. "Yeah," she said.

"What changed?" Michonne asked as they bent over the last body in the cell block.

Anna tried to ignore the face staring up at her in terror. Matilda. Anna's stomach twisted in knots, her mind racing with thoughts that maybe she could have done something more to help the older woman.

"I did."

Michonne paused, staring at her. Anna lifted Matilda by her shoulders, forcing Michonne to lift her by the ankles, and the two started carrying her out.

"I get it," Michonne said as they exited the prison. "I think you needed that time away – but I'm glad you're back."

They placed Matilda atop the pile and looked at each other before Anna bowed her head.

"Need some help with that?" Rick asked as he approached.

Anna glanced at him. _Perfect timing,_ she thought bitterly.

"No. Do your thing," Michonne said.

Rick nodded and headed off to the field. Anna squinted past the sun to watch him go. Her view was obscured by the silver pick up as Daryl drove past with Tyreese. Neither of them knew the truth, and both of them needed to.

Anna and Michonne hopped off the trailer and rounded the jeep, ready to load up and take the corpses out into the woods for burning, when Hershel limped up to them. Michonne picked up her sword.

"You heading out?" Hershel asked.

"You want to come?" Michonne countered, smiling at the old man.

Hershel paused a moment.

"Hell, yeah!" he said and then turned to Anna. "Glenn's awake – you should go see him."

Anna perked up at the news.

"You sure?"

The two nodded and climbed into the jeep. Soon, they were driving away and down the dirt path towards the woods without her. Anna watched them leave until they disappeared at the tree line. As they left her field of view, the nagging feeling in her chest worsened.

Wasting no more time, Anna turned on her heel and headed inside the prison, straight for A block. As she rounded the corner, she ran face first into Maggie.

"I'm sorry!" Anna cried, stepping back as she held her hands out to steady Maggie, who merely shook her head.

"No, it's okay."

They went to step around each other when Maggie stopped.

"Hey, Anna - I just wanted to thank you, for everything you did yesterday – really just… everything. I know it was hard on you having to lead."

"I barely did a thing," Anna insisted, feeling her cheeks heat. "But what I did get accomplished was because of you."

Maggie smiled as she placed a gentle hand on Anna's shoulder. "You did more than you give yourself credit for."

Anna opened her mouth to respond, but Maggie held up a hand.

"Just accept my thank you, and go see Glenn," Maggie said through a laugh.

Maggie finally walked around Anna and turned the corner, leaving Anna alone in the hallway.

With a sigh, Anna continued into A block and jogged up the stairs to the second level, where she found Glenn lying in his bed in cell 100.

"You still look like shit," Anna teased, leaning against the wall as she peered down at him.

Glenn scrunched up his face as he tilted his head to get a look at her. Rather than force him to crane his neck awkwardly, Anna stepped inside the cell and took a seat beside him.

"Be nice, I almost died," Glenn chided.

"Suck it up buttercup." Anna grinned, gently poking Glenn's side before she leaned back against the wall. "I'm glad it was just 'almost', though," Anna sighed, sobering.

"Me too."

A few minutes passed, neither sure of what to say.

"Maggie told me about how you did as the boss," Glenn finally said, breaking the awkward silence. "She mentioned Steven, too."

Anna rolled her eyes and groaned. "Steven—" she stopped, reminding herself that she and Michonne had just carried Steven's body from A block, a chunk missing from his neck and a bullet hole in the side of his face.

"Hey," Glenn said softly, placing a warm hand on Anna's knee. "We didn't choose you because you're with Daryl."

"Then why?" She asked, scrunching up her face. "I never understood why I was ever offered a seat on the council. I—"

"Sasha pushed for it," Glenn said, cutting her off. "And after everything you've done for us, we all agreed. Anna, you've proven over and over the lengths you're willing to go to protect all of us." He paused, seeming to be searching for the right words. "I know none of it has been easy for you. No matter how much you try to hide it, I can see it – Daryl can see it." Glenn squeezed her knee. "But you've shown that you can make the right calls. That's why we wanted you on the council."

Maggie returned then, a glass of water in hand and a soft smile on her face. Anna stood, preparing to leave the two alone.

"You don't have to leave," Maggie assured, setting the water down on the stool beside Glenn's bed where his sidearm lay.

"I want to go to the library while there's still daylight," Anna explained, glancing out the barred windows. The sun was already starting its descent. She looked back to Glenn. "I'll be back to check on you in a bit, though."

"I'll be up and around by the time you get back."

"You need to take things slow," Maggie chastised. "You almost died last night."

"Almost," Anna and Glenn said in unison.

Maggie glared between the two of them.

"Don't encourage him."

"Never," Anna beamed.

.

In the library, Anna hunched over her journal. She hadn't had time to write in it since everything started. She recorded the names of the people they'd lost, detailed the events of the sickness and everything she knew about it.

While she was everyone else's therapist, her journal was her therapy. She had always found that writing helped her work through things – and maybe she should have taken the time during the past few days to do it. It would have helped. But, better late than never.

Now though, she was on her last page, and she smiled at the short stack of fresh notebooks on the table. She brought her pencil down to write another line.

 _BOOM!_

The pencil lead snapped against the page as the walls of the prison trembled.

Anna didn't hesitate. Her chair clattered to the ground as she jumped up and ran from the room, drawing her gun. She rounded the corner, smacking hard into Maggie. Neither stopped to apologize. They sprinted towards the front of the prison, their footsteps echoing through the corridor. Outside, the two came to a halt at the inner fence beside the others, who were taking cover behind a small white brick building. They peered around the corner, squinting past the sun, and Anna's heart fell.

There, at their front gates, was a small army, a tall man dressed in black standing atop a tank. Anna's first thought was of Fort Benning. But then the man called out.

"Rick!" She recognized that voice. "Come down here. We need to talk!"

It was The Governor.


	11. Chapter Ten

"We need to talk!" The Governor called from his place atop the tank.

 _A fucking tank?_

"It's not up to me!" Rick shouted back. "There's a council now. They run this place," he explained, and suddenly it dawned on Anna that she was now permanently a part of that council. She blanched at the thought.

"Is Hershel on the council?" The Governor asked, hands on his hips, looking smug even from that distance.

A woman with a gun stepped over to a truck and guided Hershel into view, hands tied behind his back. Maggie and Beth gasped from beside Anna.

"What about Michonne?"

Anna didn't think her heart and stomach could sink any lower as she watched a man lead Michonne out to kneel beside Hershel.

"She on the council, too?"

"I don't make decisions anymore," Rick insisted.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick," The Governor sneered. "Come down here. Let's have that talk."

Anna looked to Rick just as he turned from Daryl. She could see in his eyes the fear, the conflict he was struggling with. He wasn't ready to be that person again. Neither of them were. But they didn't have a choice. Not anymore.

"It's okay, Rick," she whispered.

Rick nodded slowly and then turned to his son, placing a hand against Carl's face. Carl nodded back to his father.

"We can do this, alright?" Rick said faintly. Anna wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure more. She repeated his words in her own mind, needing the reassurance herself.

Rick walked over to the gate and pulled it open and Anna went to stand beside Daryl, brushing the back of her hand against the back of his as they all watched Rick make his way down and through the field to stand before The Governor, looking high and mighty on top of his tank.

 _A fucking tank._ Anna thought again, still not believing what she was seeing.

She hadn't seen one since Fort Benning – and that one had been a nonfunctioning relic of a distant past. This one before them was fully functional, as evident by the burning watch tower – her watch tower.

"We can't take 'em all on," Daryl observed as he stepped away and towards Sasha.

Anna clenched her jaw, taking head counts for both sides, going over strategies she'd learned from Fort Benning, trying to think of some way they could come out on top of this. But she came up with nothing.

"Go through the admin building, through the woods, like we planned," Daryl continued, addressing everyone quietly. "We ain't got the numbers no more. When's the last time someone checked the stash on the bus?"

"Day before we hit the Big Spot," Sasha said. "We were running low on rations then. We're lower now."

"Yeah, we'll manage. Things go south, everyone heads for that bus. Let everybody know," Daryl instructed.

"What if everybody doesn't know when things go bad?" Tyreese questioned. "How long do we wait?"

"As long as we can."

For a few minutes, Anna couldn't make out what Rick and The Governor were saying. It frustrated her to no end not to know what was going to happen. Until the Governor spoke louder, so that they could all hear.

"You and your people, you have until sundown to get out of here or they die."

"It doesn't have to go down this way," Rick said.

"I got more people, more firepower," The Governor explained. "We need this prison. There it is."

Anna balled her hands into fists, holstering her sidearm. If things went bad, they needed to be ready. She took a step back as subtly as she could and headed for the industrial laundry hampers filled with rifles.

"It's not about the past. It's about right now."

"There are children here," Rick said. "Some of 'em are sick. They won't—they won't survive."

"I have a tank!" The Governor snapped after a moment.

 _No shit, One-Eyed-Willy,_ Anna griped to herself as she reached for the first hamper. She glanced up to see Daryl doing the same not far off.

"And I'm letting you walk away from here. What else is there to talk about?"

Daryl passed rifles to Bob and then to Maggie and Beth. Anna passed some to Sasha and Tyreese, and a smaller rifle to Carl.

"I could shoot you all. You'd all shoot back. I know that. But we'll win, and you'll be dead," The Governor described. "All of you. Doesn't have to be like that. Like I said, it's your choice."

Anna could just make out the snarl of two walkers as they approached the army. The Governor looked to them and drew his gun, aimed and fired three shots. His aim was still as good as it ever was, even after losing his eye.

"Noise will only draw more of 'em over," The Governor stated. "The longer you wait, the harder it will be for you to get out of here."

"We got to do something," Carl hissed, taking aim at The Governor through the chain-link along with the rest of them.

"Your dad's got it," Daryl grunted.

"They're _talking_. We could kill The Governor right now," Carl insisted.

"From 50 yards?"

"I'm a good shot. I could end this right now."

"Yeah, or you could start something else. You got to trust him."

Anna shook her head and glanced over at Daryl and Carl. She remembered the last time she had a gun trained on The Governor. Daryl had told her not to take the shot then, too. She hated the way resentment boiled in the pit of her stomach, and she ignored it. She should have taken the shot five months ago and that was her fault.

"We can all— we can all live together," Rick suggested. "There's enough room for all of us."

"More than enough," The Governor agreed. "But I don't think my family would sleep well knowing that you were under the same roof."

"We'd live in different cell blocks. We'd never have to see each other till we're all ready."

More words were exchanged that Anna couldn't hear. But she didn't need to hear them to know that she had a clean shot. Five months ago, she made the mistake of not pulling the trigger when she had the chance. Was she going to make that same mistake now? 50 yards was nothing to her with a scope on her rifle.

"We're not leaving. You try and force us, we'll fight back. Like you said, the gunshots will just bring more of 'em out. They'll take down the fences. Without the fences, this place is worthless," Rick said, still trying to reason. "Now, we can all live in the prison or none of us can."

The Governor's lip curled in annoyance. Anna tracked him as he jumped from the tank and watched as he reached out for Michonne's sword.

"No!" Rick cried as The Governor brought the blade to Hershel's neck. The old man didn't move. Anna's finger tensed over the trigger.

 _Your fault_ came a whisper from the back of her mind.  
"You," Rick called. "You in the ponytail. Is this what you want? Is this what any of you want?"

Anna's eyes flicked to the woman Rick was addressing – she could see the terror on her face.

"What we want is what you got. Period. Time for you to leave, asshole." Anna glared for a second at the man driving the tank, his torso sticking out of the top port, his gun aimed in their direction.  
"Look, I fought him before. And after, we took in his old friends. They've become leaders in what we have here," Rick said. "Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates you're one of us. We let go of all of it, and nobody dies. Everyone who's alive right now. Everyone who's made it this far," He paused. "We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back."

Anna's brow furrowed as she looked to Rick, her eyes off the Governor.

"We're not too far gone. We get to come back. I know we all can change."

 _Not all of us._

Anna turned back to The Governor, aimed her gun and—

"No!"

The Governor drew back the sword and swung. Hershel's head tilted to the side, blood seeping over his shoulder and onto his shirt. Through the ringing in her ears she could faintly hear the screams of his daughters as he collapsed to the ground.

Anna faltered but squeezed the trigger, her eyes wide and burning. The Governor fell back, clutching his arm. She aimed again, fired, aimed, fired. She could practically see the switch flipping in her mind. She heard nothing, felt nothing and thought nothing except;

 _Your fault._

The tank moved forward, taking down the outer fences.

"Move back!" Someone called. Instinctively, robotically, Anna took a few steps back, laying cover fire for the others.

She ducked behind the pickup beside Sasha, Tyreese, and Bob. A window exploded behind them, and then the dining court.

"Go! Get out of here!" Tyreese shouted over the gunfire.

Sasha and Bob took off. Anna aimed for one of The Governor's soldiers and fired one round into his chest. She watched the blood spray in the wind as he fell. Without a second thought, she aimed at the next soldier.

"Anna! Go!" Tyreese commanded, grabbing a fistful of her shirt and yanking her out of the way as a bullet embedded itself in the post she'd just been standing in front of. "I've got this."

Anna nodded and fell back, joining Sasha and Bob behind a beat up green Ford parked in front of the vegetable garden. The soldiers pushed into the courtyard.

"Sasha! Anna!" Anna turned at the sound of her name, crouching down to reload her weapon. "Have you seen Beth?" Maggie asked frantically as she slid in next to them. Anna shook her head, slamming the cartridge into place and standing again, firing round after round into the soldiers.

"Is she on the bus?" Sasha offered, reloading her own rifle.

"No. She—"

Bob cried out as a bullet hit his bicep. Sasha shot into the crowd as he fell back, then she knelt to take a look at him.

"Look inside my shirt. Check for an exit wound," he instructed through clenched teeth.

Sasha pulled on the collar of his shirt as Anna stood and fired at their attackers.

"Yeah," Sasha said.

"That's good. We can treat it," Bob huffed.

"Not here," Sasha said, shaking her head.

"We'll find some place safe." As soon as the words left Maggie's mouth, the sound of the bus's engine turning over entered Anna's ears. She turned to watch it's gray backside disappearing around the corner.

"We'll figure it out!" Sasha assured as the four of them started after the bus.

"Go! Go!"

Anna and Sasha continued to fire at The Governor's soldiers as the four of them ran after the bus, ducking bullets.

Briefly, she looked to the prison, saw the holes in its walls, the fire and smoke reaching for the sky. Everything they had built, destroyed in less than an hour. Anna turned around and followed the others.

She didn't look back again.


	12. Chapter Eleven

They ran. They ran as far as their legs could carry them, away from the prison. Away from home. From her. They ran until they collapsed in a field and he stared at the clouds in the sky. His chest heaved as he watched the vultures circling overhead.

He left her. Daryl didn't know if she made it out, if she was alive or dead. He just left her. He left Anna.

.

"We should do something," Beth muttered.

Daryl didn't answer as he continued to stare into the flames of their fire.

The prison was probably still burning. It was gone. All of it.

"We should do something," Beth repeated, louder this time.

He finally looked up at her.

"We aren't the only survivors. We can't be," she insisted. "Rick, Michonne, they could be out here. Maggie and Glenn could've made it out of A block. They could've!" He looked away from her. "Anna could have—"

He glared up at her and she shut her mouth.

"You're a tracker," she said, standing. "You can track. Come on. The sun will be up soon. If we head out now, we can—" she cut herself off, staring down at him.

Daryl didn't move, just looked back to the flames.

"Fine," she snapped. "If you won't track, I will." Beth snatched up the hunting knife she'd stuck in the ground and stormed off into the dark woods, alone. And he just watched her go.

He didn't know what made him get to his feet and kick dirt over the fire. But he picked up his crossbow and followed her into the night.

.

The sun had risen less than an hour ago and already Daryl had found a set of tracks in the mud. A kid's tracks.

"Could be Luke's… or Molly's," Beth suggested. "Whoever they are, it means they're alive."

"No. This means they were alive four or five hours ago."

"They're alive!" Beth stated firmly, storming off again.

Daryl sighed but followed after her.

The two followed the tracks down a dirt path until they reached a couple of bushes of wild grapes. Daryl's eyes fell on a few grapes on the ground, squashed into mush.

"They picked up the pace right here," he observed, pointing to his findings. "Got out in a hurry. Things went bad."

"Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith," Beth griped.

"Yeah, faith," Daryl grumbled. "Faith ain't done shit for us. Sure as hell didn't do nothin' for your father." The second the words left his mouth he regretted them. He looked to Beth as she glared at him.

She turned from him then.

"They'll be hungry when we find them," she said, picking grapes from the bush.

Daryl pulled his black bandana from his pocket, shaking it out. He pressed it to Beth's forearm. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he'd never been good at apologies.

.

Daryl pulled on the leaves of the chest high bush, inspecting the blood on them.

"What?" Beth asked.

"That ain't walker blood," he informed, letting the leaves bounce back into place.

In front of them were two walkers splayed out on the ground. He could see all around them the tracks of at least a dozen walkers. After this, he couldn't see how Beth could have any faith.

"The trail keeps going," she said, continuing on. "They fought them off."

"No," Daryl said. "Got walker tracks all up and down here. At least a dozen of 'em."

Beth said nothing, scanning the trees. A twig snapped in the distance and Daryl tensed. He searched their surroundings, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from when a snarl erupted from Beth's direction, and she yelped in surprise.

Daryl brought up his crossbow as he turned to face the threat. Beth struggled to get free of the walker while Daryl struggled to get a clean shot, opting instead to drop his crossbow and yank the walker off her.

He fell to the ground, trying to keep it under control while he looked for some way to put it down. Daryl looked over his shoulder and saw Beth, hunting knife in her hand. They nodded to each other and he rolled over, pulling the walker on top of him so that Beth had full access to the walker's head.

She ran her blade through its skull and Daryl threw it off him. Panting, he got to his feet, picking his crossbow off the ground.

"Come on," he huffed, walking past Beth to follow the trail.

.

It didn't take them long to come up on some train tracks, but what they found - Daryl would have rather lived with Beth's perpetual hope than have to see the tiny black shoe in a puddle of guts and blood.

He tried to walk past the carnage, tried to pretend it didn't bother him to see the utterly broken expression on Beth's face as she cried over what could have very well been their people.

Last time they had been separated, he didn't allow himself to doubt that Anna was alive, didn't stop searching for her. This time, if Beth hadn't been there, he might not have left that campfire.

You could only have so much luck in this world, and he was certain theirs had run out.

.

Another night, another herd. There was thunder rumbling overhead as Beth and Daryl broke through the tree line, catching sight of a totaled car. Daryl kept his eyes trained on their surroundings while Beth checked the car. They had outrun the herd, but for how long?

He looked over his shoulder at her. She shook her head. Growls emitted from the woods.

"Come on," he commanded, leading the way to the trunk.

He held it open and they climbed in. It was a tight fit, but they didn't have much of a choice. The walkers were closing in and they couldn't run anymore. The trunk closed with a squeal, enclosing them in darkness. Daryl pulled a red cloth from his belt loop and tied it around the metal, keeping the trunk shut.

The car rocked and groaned as the herd passed, knocking into it, but Daryl and Beth didn't move. He kept his crossbow aimed outward, ready in case the trunk was forced open.

Soon the rain started, the thunder booming and the walkers passing, but still they didn't move. They didn't dare move. Not until the sun rose and the sound of the walkers faded away.

.

"I need a drink," Beth declared.

They'd found a decent clearing to set up camp and put up a perimeter of noise makers. His plan was to stay there, rest up until they had to run again. They were always going to be running.

Daryl huffed, taking another bite of his half of the charred rattlesnake. He picked up a green bottle of water and tossed it to her, not taking his eyes off his food.

"No, I mean a _real_ drink," she insisted. "As in alcohol."

He said nothing, just kept eating. Maybe if he ignored her, she'd give up, stop talking. But she just kept going.

"I've never had one," she explained. "'Cause of my dad…, but, he's not exactly around anymore, so…." she trailed off. "I thought we could go find some."

They didn't need booze. They didn't need to go looking for any. They needed to focus on surviving.

"Okay," Beth sighed, getting to her feet. "Well, enjoy your snake jerky," she said, grabbing her knife and walking off, and he let her go. He at least wanted to finish his lunch. Once he'd had his fill, he got to his feet and grabbed his crossbow.

It didn't take Daryl long to catch up to Beth – she was easy to track, and she hadn't gotten far. Deftly, he came up on her as she watched a small crowd of walkers wander past. Rather than scare her, once the walkers were far enough, he stepped on a twig, snapping it and calling her attention.

She spun around to face him, her blue eyes wide and knife poised to strike.

He said nothing as he turned around headed back to camp. He could hear her as she followed after him.

"I think we made it a way," Beth commented, gesturing off to the side. "I think we have to go that way for booze."

Daryl stepped over the noise makers only for Beth to walk into them.

"What the hell?" She snapped. "You brought me back?"

Daryl looked at her, his face blank, astonished at the fact that Beth had no idea he was leading the way back to camp. She didn't stand a chance on her own.

"I'm not staying in this suck-ass camp!" She sneered, shoving her middle finger in his face before she turned to storm off.

He snatched her wrist and held her back.

"Hey! You had your fun," he grumbled.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, yanking her wrist out of his grasp. "Do you feel anythin'?" She stared at him and he tensed. "Yeah, you think everything's screwed – I guess that's a feelin'. So you want to spend the rest of our lives starin' into a fire and eatin' mud snakes? Screw that!" She shouted. "We might as well do somethin'. I can take care of myself and I'm gonna get a damn drink."

And with that, she stomped off through the woods.

Daryl looked back at their tiny camp.

 _It really does suck ass._

.

It was an hour before they found a golf course, overgrown from lack of care. The two made it inside the building overlooking the field without much incident. _Pine Vista Country Club_. That's what the sign out front had read. Before the world went down, the building might have been a nice place, real fancy. Everything Daryl's life had never been.

The place was filled with corpses strewn across the ground. Some dangled from the ceiling. Rich folk who didn't know how to handle hard times. People who hadn't been strong enough to make it. Daryl didn't feel sorry for any of them.

They'd looted the place – well, Daryl had. He'd found a fancy black backpack stuffed with money and jewelry. He didn't know why he took it – why he took anything from that place. Maybe it was some base instinct of his, left over from a past life.

It didn't make him feel better, having that stuff. It hadn't made him feel better beating that walker with a golf club. Even throwing darts at pictures of rich men wasn't helping. No matter what he did, or how hard he tried, he couldn't stop feeling that gaping hole in his chest. Still, he kept throwing darts.

He understood why Beth wanted to find the booze. She didn't need it – neither of them did. They just needed to stop feeling for a little while. He glanced over his shoulder at Beth when he heard her sniffle. She had found some alcohol, but it sat on the bar in front of her as she cried, her hand covering her mouth. Daryl turned back to the dart board and threw one last dart. He didn't stop to see what he'd hit. He stalked toward Beth, took the bottle and smashed it on the ground.

"Ain't gonna have your first drink be no damned peach schnapps."

.

"So first I say something I've never done and if you have done it, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch," Beth explained, her hands fiddling with the plastic cup filled with moonshine.

Daryl grimaced.

"You really don't know this game?"

"I never needed a game to get lit before," he grumbled. The last time he played a silly game like this was back on the farm with— he cut off the thought. He didn't want to think about that.

"Wait, are we startin'?"

"How do you know this game?"

"My friends played. I watched," Beth shrugged. "Okay, I'll start. I've never… shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

"Ain't much of a game," Daryl muttered, taking a sip of the burning white lightning.

"That was a warm-up. Now you go."

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head," she assured.

"I've never been out of Georgia."

"Really?" She asked. He nodded. "Okay, good one." She took a sip. "I've never been drunk and did something I regretted."

Daryl paused then took a sip. "I've done a lot of things."

"Your turn."

"I've never been on vacation."

"What about camping?"

He shook his head, biting at the dead skin on his bottom lip.

"No, that was just something I had to learn to hunt."

"Your dad teach you?"

He hummed in the affirmative. He didn't like thinking about his dad – about anything from before, really.

"Okay. I've never been in jail – I mean, as a prisoner," Beth declared.

He looked at her, his brow furrowing.

"Is that what you think of me?"

"I didn't mean anything serious," Beth shook her head, leaning forward. "I just thought, you know, like the drunk tank. Even my dad got locked up for that back in the day."

"Drink up," Daryl snapped.

"Wait – were you a prison guard before?" She asked.

"No."

"It's your turn again," Beth sighed.

Daryl clenched his jaw. He couldn't get her last question to the game out of his head. Is that really what people thought of him? Is that what—no, he didn't want to think about her.

"I'm gonna take a piss," he snapped, jumping to his feet, staggering to the other side of the kitchen.

He'd already had too much to drink, he didn't need more. Daryl threw the mason jar to the ground, the glass shattering against the linoleum, moonshine splashing everywhere.

"You have to be quiet," Beth hissed.

"Can't hear you!" He shouted, undoing his belt and zipper. "I'm taking a piss!"

"Daryl, don't talk so loud."

"What?" He asked. "Are you my chaperone now? Oh, wait. It's my turn, right?" He asked as he shook himself off and did up his jeans and belt again. "I've never—never eaten frozen yogurt." He didn't lower his voice as he turned to her. What was the point. "Never had a pet pony. Never got nothin' from Santa Claus. Never relied on anyone for protection before." He stepped forward. "Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything." That was a lie.

"Daryl—"

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everythin' was fun. Like everythin' was a big game! I sure as hell never cut my wrists lookin' for attention!"

The single walker outside growled loudly, calling Daryl's attention.

"Sounds like our friend out there is trying to call all his buddies!"

"Daryl, just shut up."

"Hey, you never shot a crossbow before?" He asked, pointing at her. "I'm gonna teach you right now. Come on." He snatched up her wrist and his crossbow and led her to the front door, kicking it open and dragging her outside, ignoring her struggles. "It's gonna be fun."

"We should stay inside!" Beth cried. "Daryl, cut it out! Daryl!"

"Dumbass," Daryl grumbled, addressing the walker that had been clawing at the window for the past thirty minutes. "Come here, dumbass," he called as it staggered towards them. He shot a bolt into its shoulder, pinning it to the useless telephone pole.

"Daryl—"

"You want to shoot?"

"I don't know how," Beth insisted.

"Oh, it's easy. Come here." He pulled her into him and positioned his crossbow in front of her. "Right corner," he declared, firing a bolt into the walkers right shoulder.

"Let's practice later."

"Come on, it's fun."

"Just stop."

He thought of stopping, he really did. But he was angry. He was angry, and he was hurting, and he didn't know how to deal with any of it.

" _This is fun!" Anna laughed, aiming his crossbow at the tree again. Her arms didn't shake under its weight anymore, Daryl noticed. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her._

"Eight ball!" he fired another shot into the walkers chest.

"Just kill it!" Beth pleaded, pulling away from him.

"Come here, Greene," he sneered. "Let's pull these out. Get a little more target practice."

Beth ran forward, pulling out her knife. She rammed the blade into the walkers forehead.

"What the hell you do that for? I was having fun," Daryl griped.

"No, you were being a jackass. If anyone found my dad—"

"Don't," Daryl said, cutting her off. "That ain't remotely the same."

"Killing them is not supposed to be fun!"

"What do you want from me, girl? Huh?" He demanded, dropping his crossbow to the ground.

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything. Like nothin' we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It's bullshit!"

"Is that what you think?" Daryl asked.

"That's what I know."

"You don't know nothin'!"

"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl!" she snapped. "I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol or Maggie. I'm not Anna!" He flinched at the names – at _her_ name. "I survived, and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid."

His lip curled in disgust and he stepped into Beth's space, pointing a finger in her face. "I ain't afraid of nothin'," he hissed.

"I remember," she said, staring back at him, unflinching. "When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

"Too close, huh? You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends, you can't even shed a tear. Your whole family's gone, all you can do is just go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch!"

"Screw you, you don't get it."

"No, you don't get it! Everyone we know is dead!"

"You don't know that!"

"Might as well be, 'cause you ain't never gonna see 'em again!" Beth looked away from him. "Rick," he named. "You ain't never gonna see Maggie again."

"Daryl, just stop!" Beth begged, grabbing hold of his arms.

He threw her off.

"No! The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped lookin'. Maybe 'cause I gave up—That's on me!"

"Daryl."

"No—and your dad. Maybe—maybe I could have done something. They'd still be alive."

 _Useless. I'm useless._

A sob ripped out of his throat, and Beth wrapped her arms around him. He didn't push her off this time. He just stood there, shaking in her arms as hot tears rolled down his face.

"She'd still be alive," he breathed.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Anna stared at the tree line, the sound of water trickling through the creek bed filling her ears. Her rifle was empty, but her fingers hadn't uncurled from around the metal. It was as if the gun was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. She could still hear it. The gun fire. The screams. It had only been an hour or two since they fled their home. It felt so much longer.

But she didn't want to think about that. Not yet.

Behind her, Sasha was patching up Bob's shoulder while Maggie crouched off by herself, sharpening her knife.

"Got the water to our backs, decent vantage points from the bank. I'm thinking we camp here for the night," Sasha declared.

"That's good," Maggie commented, standing. "You should all be safe here."

Anna turned then, her eyes on Maggie. She knew Maggie was going to leave to find Glenn – of course she was.

"The bus got out. Glenn got out. I'm gonna find him."

"Maggie… with any luck the bus is gone," Sasha sighed.

"It was heading East down the main road," Anna interjected. "Follow that direction – might be able to pick up its tracks."

Maggie nodded along – they were both of the same mind.

"You too?" Sasha groaned, turning to Anna. "Do either of you even have any ammo?"

"I've got a full clip in my Beretta," Anna shrugged, looking back to the trees, disinterested. She was going with Maggie to find Glenn. Period.

"I couldn't find Beth. I know Glenn got out and I know which way he went." Maggie stated firmly. "I'm gonna go get him and I'm gonna come back for you."

"We both will," Anna corrected, walking over to stand beside the two women.

"Guys—"

"We're going," Anna snapped, turning on her heel and heading East. She could hear Maggie following close behind her.

"We cannot split up. Not now," Sasha insisted.

Anna rolled her eyes and didn't stop walking, and neither did Maggie.

.

"You could have helped me stop them," Sasha hissed – as if Anna and Maggie couldn't hear her. Anna elected to ignore their conversation as the four of them followed the leaf strewn road.

And then they saw it. The gray bus with its sheets of metal on the side. Maggie and Anna took off running, Sasha and Bob calling after them. They slowed as they neared the bus, craning their necks to see through the dirty windows.

A walker slammed itself against the window, snarling through the glass, followed by more reaching through the open ports. She recognized them. All of them.

"You should go," Maggie muttered as she pushed past Sasha and Bob and around to the back of the bus.

"Maggie!" Bob called as the three followed her. "Stop!" Bob ordered, pulling Maggie's hand away from the emergency exit's handle.

"I have to know if he's in there."

"We do it together," Anna said, pulling the rifle strap over her head so that she could place it on the ground. Sasha did the same.

Anna felt naked without the weapon in her hands.  
"We'll let 'em out one at a time," Bob agreed. "Two of us should be at the door in case they stack up against it."

"I have to be here. I need to see their faces," Maggie insisted.

"I'll cover you," Anna declared, taking up a position beside Maggie. She crouched down and pulled her knife from her boot.

They let the first walker out, a burly man named Ron. He fell to the ground hard and then scrambled to his feet and approached. Maggie was closer, so she took him out easily.

They let the next one out, Susie. Anna took her, ignoring the pain in her chest. Maybe if Anna hadn't convinced her and Nicholas to stay, they'd both still be alive.

The next was an older woman named Meredith. Maggie took her.

"I can't hold it!" Sasha called, struggling to keep the door closed as the walkers within the bus pushed against it.

 _Let them come,_ Anna thought.

And they did.

The walkers spilled out of the back of the bus in droves, staggering to their feet to get to their meals. Anna found Nicholas in the crowd and plunged her knife into his forehead. She huffed as she pulled back, ready to take out another walker headed for Maggie when his head exploded with a bullet from Bob's gun.

Maggie, who had seemed frozen up to that point, came to her senses and rammed her knife into the nearest walker's face before she turned to a woman in a pink, bloody hoodie.

Anna watched as Maggie grabbed the female walker by her hair and dragged her to the bus, slamming its head over and over into the side of it until she finally put it out of its misery with her knife.

They looked around at the corpses of the people they'd known.

"But they got away," Sasha breathed.

"They were good people. All of 'em."

Maggie walked around the carnage, searching each face for Glenn. A soft growl emitted from the bus, and Maggie rushed forward.

"You should let me!" Sasha called, stepping forward. Anna held her hand out in front of Sasha, holding her back.

"No."

.

Three days passed after the bus. Glenn wasn't on it. The group had stopped for supplies in an old warehouse, finding hoodies and jackets to cover up as the air grew colder. Summer was over, but their troubles were far from it. Anna had spent little time thinking how she'd aged another year.

With the colder months came early morning fog, which is what the four of them found themselves in. They stood back to back in a circle, knives out. They had minimal visibility, but they could hear the growls and snarls of walkers surrounding them.

A walker stepped out of the fog in front of Anna. Mindlessly, she met it, shoving her blade upwards through its jaw until it fell limp to the ground. She stepped back into formation.

She listened behind her as the others fought with their own attackers. She turned around when it sounded like someone was in trouble. Maggie was pinned, the walker snapping at her shoulder as she struggled to keep it at bay. Numbly, Anna pulled out her gun and fired, lodging a bullet deep in the walker's head.

Maggie got to her feet, dusting herself off.

"Thank you," she said, looking to Anna.

Anna only nodded in return, looking back into the fog.

"Bob," Sasha called softly. Anna looked over her shoulder to see both Bob and Sasha on the ground, Bob's wounded shoulder bloodied as he examined it. Anna's grip on her gun tightened.

"It's okay," Bob assured. "He got me right on the bandage." He grinned at Sasha as he caught his breath.

Sasha began laughing in relief and jumped up to hug Bob.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Bob cried.

Sasha backed off, holding her hands up.

"I didn't say stop. I just said ow," Bob teased.

Maggie, Sasha, and Bob smiled and laughed at each other. Anna's grip on her hand loosened as she turned away from them. She didn't have any right to smile.

With the immediate danger taken care of, the group checked themselves over. Anna pulled her clip and counted her bullets. She only had seven rounds out of fifteen left.

"You ready?" Maggie asked.

"We should wait till the fog clears," Sasha advised.

"We've been waiting a while," Maggie insisted as Anna turned around again.

"You see all this?" Sasha asked, referring to the corpses around them. "We got lucky. We need visibility. I've got six bullets left. Anna?"

"Seven," Anna informed, her voice flat.

"She's right," Bob said. "We've been doin' good following the plan, no need to get sloppy now."

Maggie reached into her pocket and pulled out the tiny compass they had found a few days ago on a set of keys. She grimaced.

"What is it?" Sasha asked. Maggie tossed the keys to her.

"It's broken," she said before she crouched down and took a small journal out of her back pocket. She flipped through the pages. Anna stared at it.

Maggie had offered the journal to Anna when they had found it, but Anna refused it. She didn't want to waste her time. She didn't know what she would write in it anyway. Milton's journals—and her own journal—were abandoned at the prison. There was no point in them. Not anymore.

"We don't need it," Bob said. "Sun comes up in the East, sets in the West. We'll keep an eye on it in between – Anna, you learned how to track, right? Daryl—" he cut himself off.

Anna said and did nothing. None of them had dared mention Daryl. Anna had refused to think about him. She couldn't.

.

As soon as the fog cleared, they set off through the woods in silence. They walked for hours until they broke through the tree line and came upon a line of tracks. The sun was already starting its descent through the sky. Anna was scanning the area for possible threats when her eyes landed on some signs.

"What's that?" Maggie asked, walking up to it, the others following. Anna joined them, staring at the words and the map tied to the pole, barely protected by a small metal awning.

"Terminus," Bob read. "When we were out on the run to the veterinary college, we heard a message about this on the radio."

"They were broadcasting?" Maggie asked, astonished.

"What did they say?"

"Couldn't make it out – I only know because I'm seeing it now," he gestured to the cardboard sign. "Those who arrive survive."

"We should go," Maggie declared.

"I thought we were looking for Glenn?" Sasha sighed. Anna had to agree. She wasn't ready to stop looking for him.

"If he saw one of these, he would go looking for me looking for him," Maggie explained.

Anna thought about it – she had a point. Glenn was smart, and so was Maggie. And they knew each other. Terminus was their best bet. Assuming he saw the same sign.

"Look at this map – all these tracks from different directions leading to the same place," Maggie insisted.

"It's far," Sasha said, shaking her head. "And we don't know if there are other signs."

"You don't think this is the only one."

"This is the best lead we've had so far," Bob sighed. "It says sanctuary, that's just another reason to try. Others from the prison could be there—"

"Anna, back me up on this."

Anna shrugged, keeping her eyes on the perimeter.

"We're gonna need to make camp soon," she said.

"What do you want to do, Sasha?" Bob asked. "Keep makin' circles from the bus? Or are you talkin' about us starting to do something else?" Sasha looked between the three of them as they stood together. "We're not splitting up. That can't happen," Bob insisted. "You want to take a vote or something?"

Sasha closed her eyes, frustrated.

"We don't need a vote," Sasha finally relented and started walking.

Maggie and Bob followed after her while Anna lingered for a moment, staring at the map. She wanted to believe that Daryl was alive out there, that he had gotten out. But she didn't have enough hope left to let herself believe it. Not this time.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Glenn gasped, opening his eyes to see nothing but sky and black smoke. He groaned as he rolled over, pulling his rifle up from where it dangled over a cluster of snarling, clawing walkers.

He stood, staring out at the destruction of the prison. At his home.

"Maggie?" He called. "Maggie!"

Glenn looked down the catwalk, at the gap between him and the other side. He knew he couldn't jump it. He'd just have to find another way to his cell block.

Turning around, he headed for the door behind him and slowly pushed it open, gun trained on the pitch dark corridor within. He reached for the lantern he knew to be hung on the wall just inside the threshold.

He walked in and shut the door behind him before he crouched down and turned on the lantern, bathing his immediate surroundings in a faint white glow. He kept his finger on the trigger as he made his way through the dark.

.

A bottle clanked against the bars as Glenn pushed the gate to the cell block open and stepped inside. The block was completely deserted. The whole prison was.

He kept his rifle raised as he turned towards the cell he shared with Maggie, the opaque curtain obscuring his view of the inside. Cautiously, quickly, he pulled it aside and found nothing but their belongings and an unmade bed.

Glenn lowered his gun and sighed, shuffling further into the cell. He didn't have time to waste; he needed to get out of the prison and find Maggie – find all of them.

He threw his gun on the bed and crouched beside it, digging under the mattress for the riot gear he and Maggie stored there. He checked it, made sure everything was still there, and stood, ready to start putting the gear on when it hit him. That feeling of dread and hopelessness. All at once like a freight train.

With a heavy sigh he collapsed on the bed. He was so tired, and this world was so big – how could he even be sure she made it out – that any of them were still alive?

His chest tightened, and his head felt as though he were drowning. He put his hands to his forehead, his breathing labored. His whole body was tingly, and his eyes stung.

Anna had described her panic attacks to him before. Was this what was happening to him?

Glenn rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around himself – he didn't know what else would calm the pounding of his heart – and he stared at the wall, counting the chips in the paint like Anna had told him.

In his peripheral, he saw something. A white square surrounding a small picture of Maggie, sleeping in the watchtower. She'd told him to destroy it.

He sat up and reached out a shaky hand. Finally, the tears fell as he clutched the photo in his clasped hands, his whole body trembling with every sob.

 _Please be alive,_ he prayed. _I need you to be alive._

If Glenn was going to find his wife – any of them – he needed to start moving. He shoved the photo of Maggie into his pocket, picked up the riot gear, and grabbed Hershel's pocket watch from off the bookshelf. But that wasn't all he needed.

He knew of one place he could go where the most important survival supplies were readily available. Anna and Daryl's cell, under their bed. She had confided to him that she still kept what she called a 'bug-out' bag under the mattress – just in case things went sideways. Well, things were flipped upside down, and it was time to bug-out.

It was a bright orange duffle, filled with a change of clothes, some rations, a baggie of basic medical supplies, a machete, a map, and an extra clip for a 9mm. It was lucky they carried the same sidearm. He added a change of clothes for himself to the bag.

After that, he went to the room reserved for Judith – filled with all the baby formula and toys. He collected the few bottles of baby food, in case he found her – God, he hoped he found her.

Once he felt he had gotten everything he needed, checked to make sure everything worked or wasn't going to get him sick – sicker than he already was – he headed for the exit and pulled on the riot gear.

His chest was still tight, his head still felt full of water, but one thing Anna had told him always worked for her kept playing in his mind. Just keep moving, keep focused on the task.

 _We've all got a job to do,_ Glenn thought. That's what Hershel and Maggie always said. Finding Maggie, finding all of them. That was his job.

Hand on the door, ready to push it open to the dangers outside, Glenn paused. There were too many walkers for him to take on by himself, he knew that. He had the riot gear, yes, but he could still be overrun.

He looked to the side, saw the bottle on the ground. Liquor.

.

The second he stepped outside the walkers spotted him. He took two quick breaths, counted to three, and ran head first into the fray. He had no other choice.

Glenn pushed through the crowd as the walkers advanced on him, hands reaching and clawing and grabbing as they snarled and snapped at him like rabid dogs. He carried on, grunting and shouting in frustration until he broke through the cluster. And he ran. He ran until something caught his eye.

For one glorious moment, he thought it was Anna. But the hair was too short, and he didn't recognize the face. This woman had been with the Governor.

He went to keep running but he stopped, looked back. She seemed so pathetic and alone sitting in the storage cage, surrounded by walkers.

With an irritated groan, he turned back and rounded the cage, stabbing his knife into the walker blocking the gate. Quick as he could, he yanked it open and climbed inside, shutting the gate behind him before any walkers could get in and grab them.

He snatched the gun from the woman. She didn't resist. He pulled the clip and counted the bullets.

Taking off his helmet, he stared down at her in confusion.

"It's full," he said. "Did you even fire a shot?"

She shook her head.

It dawned on Glenn that this woman didn't want to be here, she didn't want any of this to happen. And, God, he hated that look on her face – he'd seen it too many times on Anna.

"Alright. Let's go."

She didn't move.

"Let's go!" He snapped.

Still nothing.

"Are you just gonna stay here, huh? You're just gonna die?" He asked, leaning over her. He was running low on patience today.

"I was part of this," she said, her voice pained.

"I know."

She looked to him then, her eyes pleading with him to just leave her.

"So what are you doing?"

"I need your help." He wasn't about to admit she reminded him of his best friend.

.

Glenn prepared the Molotov. He sure was glad he went back for the liquor. Picking up the gun and machete, he turned to Tara – that was her name – and held them out to her.

"We're gonna run out of bullets, so take this and take this," he explained, pushing them into her hands. She accepted the weapons. God, she looked so scared.

He went back to the Molotov and pulled out his lighter, flicking it on.

"Back up,' he instructed.

He lit the cloth and kicked the gate open. With as much force as he could manage, he tossed the flaming bottle at the old green Ford parked in front of the vegetable garden, then shut the gate. They watched as the car erupted in flames, catching the attention of the walkers.

Wasting no time, Glenn gathered up his stuff and laid a hand on Tara's shoulder.

"Alright, I need you to stay ahead of me, okay?" She nodded. "I'll cover you, but I can't do it alone." She nodded again, raising her gun.

Glenn pulled his helmet on and the two readied themselves to make a run for it.

"You ready?" He asked, glancing at her. He remembered when Anna was scared like that. Was this woman really so unused to the world? "Let's go!"

And they ran. They ran until they cleared the fences and then kept running into the tree line. They didn't stop running until they couldn't hear the sound of the snarling walkers or smell the flames as they consumed the prison, destroying his home.

.

.

She could barely breathe, her chest hurt and her whole body felt like jelly. But none of that mattered.

"Did you see if any of my people got out?" Glenn asked as the two made it out onto the main road.

"All I saw was my sister in that field," Tara breathed. "She wasn't supposed to be there."

Tara wanted to stop talking, convinced Glenn didn't care – why would he? But the words just spilled from her mouth.

"She had a gun, but they just swarmed her. She wasn't supposed to be there. I did it for them – I trusted him." She took a shuddering breath. "And then he just killed that old man." She could still see the blade slicing into the old man's neck. Like it was nothing.

"Hershel?"

They finally stopped walking.

"Was his name Hershel?"

Tara turned to Glenn, holding onto her tears – she didn't deserve to cry. She nodded.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Glenn looked away from her, processing

"Brian – that man – told us you were bad people. I know it's not true. I can see it's not. So what we did – what I did…" she clenched her jaw. "I mean, I'm a piece of shit. Why would you want my help?"

Tara turned away, ready to leave him – he didn't need her. A murderer.

 _Your fault_ hissed a voiced inside her head.

"I don't want it, I need it," Glenn called.

She paused.

"I have to find Maggie."

She turned to him.

"Who's Maggie?"

"She's my wife."

"You guys got separated?" She asked. She didn't think her heart could break anymore.

 _Your fault._

"I was on the bus and then I got off to help and she didn't see me," he explained.

"How do you know if she made it?"

"I don't know," he said, stepping forward. "But Hershel, Maggie's father, was a great man. And he told me all I had to do was believe, and that's what I'm gonna do."

Tara couldn't help but admire his sentiment, while simultaneously thinking it was pointless.

"Neither one of us should be alive right now. She got out, so you're gonna help me find her," he declared. "Things aren't over."

He started walking again, and she watched after him.

"I want to believe that," she said. He stopped and looked back at her. "I want to."

Helping him find his wife – even if it was a fool's errand – maybe that was how she made up for her mistakes. Maybe that was how she fixed things. She had to believe that she could.

The snarling of approaching walkers caught their attention, and they turned towards the sound. Four walkers had heard their conversation.

Glenn dropped his bag and pulled out his knife, his rifle still hooked over his shoulder, then walked across the road to the small group.

"You have to," he said.

He took out the first walker with ease but was grabbed by the second. He struggled with it, but ultimately took it out. The effort seemed to exhaust him as he fell to his knees. Tara's grip on her knife tightened and she followed after him, taking out the third walker.

Glenn picked up his rifle and swung it at the last walker, knocking it to the ground before he too collapsed, unconscious.

Tara ran to him.

"Glenn," she called, trying to shake him awake. She couldn't tell if he was breathing under his riot gear. "Glenn. Hey, Glenn."

She felt fingers curl over her shoulder and she gasped in surprise, turning to find the last walker snarling at her. She stood, shoving it away from her, and grabbed Glenn's rifle, ramming the butt of it into the walker's forehead.

It fell to the ground, and she continued her attack, bringing the butt of the rifle down on its head over and over again until it was a bloody mess, and then she kept doing it, gasping and grunting and holding back her tears.

Everything was gone. Her sister, her niece, the prison. Everything.

 _Your fault._

Faintly, she could hear the sound of an engine as a vehicle approached, squealing to a stop. She threw the gun down and straightened, her chest heaving as she stared at the military vehicle in front of her.

"Hope you enjoyed the show, assholes!" She shouted, her anger boiling over. They could have helped her.

The doors creaked open and four people climbed out, three of whom were holding rather large guns.

"You got a damn mouth on you, you know that?" said the large ginger man, standing in front at the lead of his companions. "What else you got?"


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Anna stared at the night sky through the dying trees. The fire was low. She figured it was better that way, less chance of being detected. They had set up camp for the night not far off from the tracks. Sasha and Bob had gone to sleep while Maggie took watch. Anna didn't sleep though. She didn't want to close her eyes.

There was a rustle, and her body tensed, her hand flying down to her knife. Her eyes landed on Maggie, rising from where she sat on watch. Anna didn't say anything as Maggie walked a few paces, cleared a spot on the ground, then crouched and carved something into the dirt with her knife. She watched silently as Maggie straightened and walked into the night without a word.

She looked between Bob and Sasha, sleeping under their tarps around the campfire. Her mind made up, she got to her feet, gathered up her stuff, and followed after Maggie.

Maggie was easy to track through the woods, even in the dark. It didn't take Anna long to catch up. She didn't reveal herself right away, however – choosing instead to hang back, to be sure. Maybe Maggie wasn't leaving them. Maybe she only left a note to tell them she was going to pee.

But they hit the tracks and Anna knew. She cursed to herself. Maggie actually thought that she could make it alone? After everything?

She cleared her throat. Maggie spun around, hand on her knife, her eyes widening when they landed on Anna.

"Anna?" She asked, incredulous. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Anna said nothing as she made her way up the small incline and onto the tracks, stopping in front of Maggie.

"I'm not goin' back," Maggie stated firmly.

"I know," Anna shrugged. "Not here to bring you back."

Anna started walking down the tracks. When she didn't hear Maggie's footsteps following her, she turned and pursed her lips.

"You coming Greene?"

.

The sun was rising in the East. They'd walked in silence, following the tracks, not stopping for anything. Finally, after hours, they came upon another Terminus sign.

"We should leave a note, so Glenn knows to go there – In case he's not there already," Maggie explained, pulling out her knife as she rounded the metal box the signs were mounted on.

Anna shifted on her feet and chewed at the dead skin on her bottom lip. They needed water.

A snarl called their attention and they turned towards the sound. A female walker was crossing the tracks towards them.

"I got it," Anna sighed, pulling out her own knife.

She took a step forward, grounded herself, and kicked it in the stomach. It fell back to the ground, sprawled out on its back. She kicked it again in the face before it could stand back up, then ran her knife through the top of its head.

Anna looked over her shoulder at Maggie and saw the woman watching her.

"What?"

Maggie walked forward, crouching over the walker, and stuck her knife into its stomach, gutting it.

"Uh, Maggie?" Anna asked.

"For the note," Maggie elaborated, sticking her fingers into the pool of blood. Anna cocked a brow at her companion, and watched as she walked back to the signs, writing out a message with the blood.

 _Glenn, go to Terminus – Maggie, Anna._

Anna narrowed her eyes at the message, considering the morbid nature of it. Maggie looked at her, wiping the blood from her hands onto the side of the metal box.

"You think he'll see it?" She asked.

Anna shrugged and turned, ready to head out.

"Why are you helping me?"

Anna paused and tilted her head back, squinting at the sky as it slowly brightened with the rise of the sun.

"What else should I be doing?" Anna countered, finally turning to face Maggie.

Maggie bowed her head for a moment.

"Lookin' for Daryl,"

Anna looked away from her, ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes. She wasn't going to cry.

"He's dead," she said firmly. But she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more.

Maggie shook her head, walking up to Anna with a worried gaze.

"You don't believe that."

"It's not about what I believe," Anna spat.

"So then why are you helping me? If you think they're dead?" Maggie demanded, her voice harsh.

"Because," Anna snapped, staring back at Maggie, willing the tears not to fall. "I have to."

"Have to?"

Anna clenched her jaw.

"It's my fault they're dead," she breathed, and the words were spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I had The Governor in my sights. I could've killed him. Twice – five months ago, four days ago – but it doesn't matter because I didn't pull the fucking trigger!"

She lowered her gaze. She couldn't meet Maggie's eyes. This was all her fault.

"I could've killed him, but I didn't, and now your dad is dead."

Maggie gripped Anna's shoulders, forcing Anna to look at her.

"It wasn't your fault."

Anna shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, that damned voice chanting again.

 _Your fault._

 _Your fault._

She couldn't breathe; it felt like her head was slowly filling with water. This was all her fault.

"Okay then, by your logic, we all cut my dad's head off."

"No— no—"

"Rick was in the same room with The Governor. Michonne could have taken _his_ head before she left Woodbury. Daryl could've- he could've put an arrow in his skull. Andrea slept with him—he was vulnerable, but she didn't do it. Any one of us had the chance and we didn't take it. All of us killed my dad."

Anna pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself as if it would be enough to keep her from falling to pieces. In her mind, she could see that switch flipping. The flood gates were open.

 _Your fault. Your fault._

She couldn't remember a time when that voice wasn't there.

 _Your fault. Your fault._

She couldn't remember when it had started to sound like Marley.

 _Your fault._

Why was it Marley's voice screaming in her ear?

And then it hit her like a freight train barreling down the tracks at top speed, and what Maggie was telling her made sense. Her hands fell to her sides. She felt herself deflate. She couldn't breathe. She felt cold and hot all at the same time, felt too many things all at once.

"I—" her voice hitched in her throat. She couldn't hide from the truth anymore.

It was Marley. Marley had taken a small part of Anna and twisted it, poisoned it. Convinced Anna that she was to blame. For everything. She'd been an infection, a parasite, telling her that it was her fault. Her fault.

Anna ran her hands through her hair, tugging at the strands. Was she hyperventilating? She couldn't tell. What was she supposed to do?

 _Count the rocks,_ she told herself. Her vision blurred, she couldn't see them.

"Anna?" she heard distantly.

"I—" she choked.

Anna reached for her thigh and pinched. She pinched until she felt her nails bite through the fabric of her jeans, until she pierced her flesh. Until there were hands around her wrist, pulling.

"Anna!"

Her cheek stung, her head had turned. Slowly, she looked back to Maggie, her vision clearing. Maggie stared back at her, fear painted across her face. Anna reached up, felt the tears streaming down her face. She wiped at them with the back of her hand, but they just kept flowing.

Maggie pulled Anna into her. Instinctively, Anna buried her face in the woman's shoulder, her body convulsing with her sobs. Maggie held onto her for a long time, saying nothing. Anna could only cry, one thought crashing through her mind.

 _Not my fault._

 _Not my fault._

 _Not my fault._


	16. Chapter Fifteen

It took a while for Anna to calm down and peel herself away from Maggie. Maggie didn't say anything as Anna cleaned herself up, and she was grateful. What were they supposed to say to each other after all of that?

So, they kept walking. Following the tracks, heading for Terminus. After a few hours, they came upon another sign, located near a town.

"We should leave a message here, too," Maggie said.

"Let's go find us a walker."

The two made their way across the tracks and past a warehouse when Anna spotted an ice-cream truck.

"We should check that out," Anna said, gesturing to the truck. "See if there's anything worth taking. Maggie nodded, and the two pushed past a set of cars blocking their path.

Inside, Anna rummaged through drawers and cabinets, searching for nonperishables, water, weapons – anything they might need.

"You know, it's too bad I didn't get a chance to grab my bug-out bag when we left the prison," Anna sighed.

"You had a bug-out bag?" Maggie asked from outside the truck where she kept watch.

"Yeah."

"Where'd you pick that up?"

"Fort Benning. For all its faults, I learned a lot from them," Anna said, standing from the last cabinet with a plastic box of basic medical supplies. "Jack pot," Anna grinned. She suddenly realized she hadn't been smiling a whole lot recently. Of course, she hadn't had a whole lot to smile about.

"What'd you find?"

"Some bandages and ointment," Anna called back, flipping the lid open. She found some Neosporin and a band-aid inside and set the rest down. "Don't come in – I'm taking my pants off."

Anna undid her belt and pulled her jeans down just enough so that she could see the damage she'd done to her upper thigh. She grimaced at the sight. Scars and red half-moons marked her skin. But she wasn't there to treat old wounds.

She wiped the drying blood away from the newest cut in her thigh and hissed. She'd really dug in. With her teeth, she ripped the small package of Neosporin open and squeezed a small amount onto the cut, pressing it in before she covered it with the beige bandage.

With that done, she pulled up her pants and redid the belt around her waist.

"No!"

Anna jumped, grabbing up her knife as she sprinted for the door. Outside, Maggie grappled with a walker, another one coming up behind her.

"Look out!" Anna shouted, hopping out of the food truck and yanking the first walker away from Maggie. With the walker off her, Maggie ran her knife into its skull. Anna threw it to the side, watching as Maggie whirled around and kicked the next walker with a grunt.

And then she slipped. Maggie's legs fell out from under her and she fell to the ground. Anna leaped forward and grabbed the approaching walker by its hair, slamming its face into the side of the truck. She rammed her knife into the back of its head and it fell to the ground beside Maggie.

"Maggie?" Anna asked, taking a step back towards her friend. "You alright?"

Maggie didn't move from her spot on the ground, just stared at the sky.

"We're exhausted," Maggie muttered. Anna cocked her brow. "We can't do this alone…. We need Bob and Sasha."

"They're miles away Maggie," Anna sighed. But she got to the ground and sat beside her friend, arms propped up on her raised knees.

"They'll follow the tracks until they find a town," Maggie informed, looking to Anna. "We'll just have to wait for them."

Anna shook her head and wiped under her nose.

"Alright Greene. We'll wait."

.

At some point, Anna had moved so that she was resting against the back wheel of the ice-cream truck, her legs stretched out in front of her. They really were exhausted. Neither of them had wanted to get off the ground once they were down. Every once in a while, Anna thought Maggie had drifted off to sleep.

Anna still couldn't. No matter her recent revelations, the voice kept hissing in her ear that everything was her fault. It was just that now she could tell it to fuck off. She smiled to herself at the thought.

"What are you grinnin' at?" Maggie muttered, her eyes still closed.

"Nothing," Anna sighed, still smiling.

"Come on, tell me—" The sound of shattering glass cut Maggie off as the two women jumped in surprise.

"The hell was that?" Anna snapped, her eyes scanning the area, finding several walkers seeping out of the woodworks. "Shit," she hissed. There were too many to handle.

Anna and Maggie scrambled to their feet.

"Come on!" Maggie demanded, pulling Anna along to head around the truck. But the second they made it clear. they came to a halt.

"Maggie! Anna!" Sasha shouted.

The two whirled around and saw Sasha with her sharpened branch, standing atop a car, fending off too many walkers. Anna cursed and pulled her gun – there was no point in staying quiet now and she still had seven bullets left.

Maggie jumped out in front of her, wielding a sign, and ran head first into the fray. She took out the first walker, slicing through the top of its skull like butter. Anna shook her head at the sight.

Anna aimed and fired at the next walker. She stepped forward to get a better angle, keeping count of her bullets. She had six left, then five. Sometimes she forgot how quickly they went.

Sasha and Maggie stood back to back, slashing and stabbing at the walkers that were left. Anna holstered her gun, trading it for her knife, and quickly dispatched the last walker.

"Where's Bob?"

Anna straightened, wiping the blood from her blade before tucking it away.

"Out looking for you two," Sasha said through ragged breaths. "Why are you here?"

Maggie and Anna looked to each other.

"We were lookin' for another walker. Found more than we wanted…" Maggie explained. "You know, I was lying there and I remembered—I heard what you said back at the camp. I heard you say you thought we should be in a town."

Anna grimaced.

"What else did you hear me say?" Sasha asked, glancing between the two.

"That odds are Glenn is dead. And we should stop. But you're wrong."

"So why are you here?"

"We were waiting for you," Anna said, stepping up to stand beside them.

"We're not giving up," Maggie said. "But we need your help. 'Cause we can't do it alone. And even if we catch up to Bob, we can't do it without you. I thought that I couldn't ask you to risk your life. But I can. 'Cause I know what you'd be riskin' it for. And it isn't just Glenn," Maggie shook her head. "I get that you're afraid."

"I am," Sasha said, cutting Maggie off. "I am afraid."

"We could get there," Maggie insisted. Anna nodded.

"I know…," Sasha sighed. "So, let's go get Bob, and let's get there."


	17. Chapter Sixteen

"Are we close?"

"Almost done."

"How do you know?" Beth asked, carefully stepping forward, Daryl just behind her.

"The signs are all there," he assured.

"What are we tracking?"

"You tell me. You're the one who wanted to learn," Daryl said, ignoring the pain in his chest. It was starting to get easier.

"Well, somethin' came through here. The pattern is all zig-zaggy…" Beth thought for a moment, crouched over the trail. "It's a walker," she grinned over her shoulder at him.

"Maybe it's a drunk," he teased.

"I'm getting good at this. Pretty soon I won't need you at all," she laughed, straightening and raising his crossbow in her arms. It had taken her a while to get used to the weight of it – she still couldn't pull back the draw string.

"Yeah, keep on trackin'," he grumbled.

"You taught Anna, too, right?" she asked.

Beth had insisted on talking about the past, about the people they'd lost. At first it hurt too much to even acknowledge, but eventually the pain got easier to bear.

"Yeah," he muttered. "She was a quick learner."

They continued to follow the tracks to a clearing, where they found a walker feasting on a morning meal.

"It's got a gun," Beth proclaimed quietly. Daryl gestured for her to take the lead.

Beth started her cautious approach. Daryl stayed back in the trees, watching, ready to jump in if she needed it. And she did.

With one step, she gasped in pain and fell to the ground, catching the walkers attention. She kept her aim and fired, hitting it in the cheek as it moved towards her. Daryl ran forward, and she tossed him his crossbow. He used it as a blunt object to put the walker down.

He knelt beside Beth, prying open the trap she'd been caught in.

"Can you move it?" He asked.

"Yeah," Beth affirmed, rolling her ankle as she winced in pain.

.

After the incident with Beth's hunting lesson, Daryl decided they needed to find a place to rest up, maybe for a few days. So, they walked for a few miles, Daryl supporting Beth as she limped along beside him. It felt like forever before they found a place, but they came upon a funeral home just past a cemetery.

"Can we— can we hold up a sec?" Beth asked, pulling them to a stop.

"You alright?"

"I just need to sit down," she assured.

Daryl grimaced. The sun was already too low in the sky for comfort.

"Alright, hold up," he commanded, pulling his crossbow strap over his head so that it rested over his chest. He crouched down, holding his arms out behind him. "Hop on."

"Are you serious?" Beth asked, astonished.

"Yeah, this is a serious piggyback. Jump up," he insisted.

After a moment, Beth jumped up, wrapping her arms around Daryl's shoulders. He grunted, adjusting her on his back.

"You're heavier than you look," he grumbled as he started walking.

"Maybe there are people there," Beth suggested.

"Yeah, if there are, I'll handle 'em."

"There are still good people, Daryl," Beth chided gently.

His mind immediately fell to Anna, recalling a memory of her handing a bar of food to Carl and Sophia.

"I don't think the good ones survive."

.

"Give it a minute," Daryl instructed after banging on the open door, waiting for a response. There was nothing, so he tried the knob, and the door opened. He stepped in first, Beth following behind.

"It's so clean," Beth observed.

"Yeah…. Someone's been tending to it," Daryl commented. "May still be around." He led the way through the parlor. His eyes landed on a corpse laid out in a coffin. His brow furrowed. There was something off about the man's face. He reached out and dragged his fingers against its cheek, pulling back on putty.

He looked to Beth and wiped the putty off on the side of the coffin.

"Come on," he said, continuing on until he found the stairs to the basement. At the foot of the steps, they came upon a room, two more corpses laid out on stainless steel rolling tables. Daryl turned to the stainless steel cabinets and rifled through them, finding a package of fresh gauze.

"Let's get that ankle wrapped," he said, turning back to Beth to see her staring at the bodies. "Looks like somebody ran out of dolls to dress up," he sneered.

"It's beautiful," Beth countered. "Whoever did this cared. They wanted these people to get a funeral," she explained. "They remembered these things were people... before all this. They didn't let it change them in the end. Don't you think that's beautiful?" Beth watched him expectantly.

Daryl wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't good to linger on the past – the _before_.

"Come on," he muttered, and knelt in front of Beth, unwrapping the gauze.

.

They pulled open cabinets and the fridge, searching for food. Most of it was as empty as their stomachs, until Daryl flung open the last set of cabinet doors.

"Whoa."

"You find anything?" Beth asked, coming up to stand beside him. "Whoa," she repeated.

"Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda, and pig's feet," Daryl listed off, admiring the haul. "That's a white trash brunch right there."

"It all looks good to me," Beth grinned, reaching for the food.

"No, hold up," Daryl called. "Ain't a speck of dust on this."

"So?"

"Means somebody just put it here. This is someone's stash," he explained. "Maybe they're still alive." He considered the cache of food for a moment, conflicted on what to do. It was just the two of them – they didn't need that much, he reasoned. "Alright, we'll take some of it and we'll leave the rest."

"I knew it," Beth cheered.

"Knew what?" Daryl asked, picking up a jar of grape jelly.

"It's like I said. There are still good people," she grinned.

Daryl unscrewed the lid and immediately shoved his fingers into the sweet, purple jelly, scooping up some and sucking it off his fingers with a hum.

"Gross," she groaned, walking away with a jar of peanut butter.

"Hey, those pig's feet are mine!"

.

Daryl set up some noise makers along the front porch. He was thinking about how glad he was that the entire first floor was already boarded up when he noticed the bright orange color of the sky. He tried to ignore the stinging in his chest.

It was the quiet moments that were the worst. When he had no distractions from the memories. He missed them. He missed Rick and Glenn, and Carol. He missed her - Anna. Even when he remembered his anger that she hadn't told him about Carol, he missed her. Sometimes he preferred the anger. it was easier, more familiar, than the sadness.

He shook his head and headed back inside, letting the sweet tones of the piano fill his head. He leaned against the threshold into the second parlor and watched Beth as she sang.

"Pine for summer, then we'll buy a beer to shotgun. We'll lay on our lawn and we'll be good."

He cleared his throat to call her attention. She turned to him, her fingers stilling over the keys.

"The place is nailed up tight," he explained, setting down his crossbow on the parlor couch. "The only way in is through the front door." He sized up the coffin, wiping his hands on his jeans.

 _Good a place as any,_ he thought, hopping into it.

"What are you doing?" Beth asked.

"This is the comfiest bed I've had in a while," he muttered.

"Really?" Beth asked. "What about the one at the prison? That looked nice."

Daryl clenched his jaw. The mattress had been alright – but that wasn't why he slept in it. It was Anna, lying beside him, her hand in his that made it comfortable.

"Why don't you go ahead and play some more? Keep singing."

"I thought my singing annoyed you," she teased.

"There ain't no jukebox, so…"

Beth nodded and turned back to the piano, filling the room with her song again. Daryl wasn't about to admit that listening to her made him feel better. Anna had loved listening to Beth sing – she said it made things seem just a little bit less like shit.

"...and we'll buy a beer to shotgun, we'll lay on the lawn and we'll be good. Now I'm laughing at my boredom and my string of failed attempts."

.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Beth griped, limping down the hall just in front of Daryl.

He rolled his eyes.

"Forget that."

She giggled as he scooped her up into his arms and kicked the door to the kitchen open. Inside, set up on the island, were two jars of pickled peaches, two 2-liter bottles of Cola and jars of peanut butter and grape jelly. He walked around the island and set Beth down in her chair.

"Here you go," he said with a huff as he took his own seat across from her. "Alright, let's eat."

They each picked up their own jars of peaches, ready to dig in when the noise makers on the front porch rattled.

Daryl jumped out of his chair, snatching up his crossbow. Beth rose to follow him.

"Stay," he ordered, jogging out of the kitchen to the front door.

He peered through the spaces between the boards, seeing nothing. Confused, he carefully opened the door, his crossbow ready to fire. There was a whimper and he looked down. A mangy white dog stared back at him, one eye missing.

"It's just a damn dog!" he called back before he knelt and reached out to it. "Hi," he said softly. "Come here, boy." The second Daryl's fingers brushed its cold nose it yelped and took off.

Daryl sighed and stood up, turning to find Beth standing in the hallway.

"He wouldn't come in?" She asked.

"I told you to stay back," Daryl chided.

"Yea, but, Daryl…" A smile spread across her face. "You said there was a _dog_."

Daryl shook his head, gesturing for her to go back into the kitchen. "Maybe he'll come back around," he sighed. "Come on."

.

The sun had fallen below the horizon and the two lit a couple of candles to illuminate the kitchen while they finished their dinner. Daryl scraped at the jelly with a spoon, taking his fill.

"I'm gonna leave a thank-you note," Beth said as she hunched over her journal, pen in hand.

Daryl had found it not too long ago in a convenience store. He regretted giving it to Beth as he watched her frown in concentration – the way Anna used to.

"Why?" He asked, looking away from her.

"For when they come back— _if_ they come back," she corrected. "Even if they're not coming back, I still want to say thanks."

He thought for a moment, considering their circumstances. Beth was hurt, they were both exhausted.

"Maybe you don't have to leave that," he said, taking another bite of his jelly. "Maybe we stick around here for a while. They come back, we'll just make it work." He shrugged, remembering the painted up corpses. "They may be nuts, but maybe it'll be alright."

Beth turned to him, a grin spreading across her face.

"So, you do think there are still good people around," she laughed. "What changed your mind?"

Daryl worked his jaw, glancing between her and his food.

"You know," he muttered.

"What?" She pushed.

"I don't know…," he mumbled.

"Don't 'I don't know.' What changed your mind?"

He stared at her, tensing up. He didn't know how to say it – he didn't want to say. The truth was, Beth's constant optimism, her smiles and laughter despite everything they'd been through, her insistence that there was still good to find in the world – it was a bright spot in a dark place.

"Oh," Beth breathed, her smile falling away as she sobered.

The noise makers rattled again, distracting them from the conversation that was getting a little too serious for Daryl's comfort. He quickly got to his feet and strode towards the door.

"I'm gonna give that mutt one more chance," he grumbled as he picked up the rest of his jar of pickled peaches. Shaking his head, he swung the front door open and faced far too many walkers.

Dropping the jar, Daryl shoved the door back into place, feeling the walkers pushing up against it.

"Beth! Beth!" He called. She appeared, crossbow in hand, and tossed it to him. "Run!" He demanded. She disappeared through the kitchen and he ran forward, headed for the parlor as he heard the door bust open behind him.

"Beth, pry open a window. Get your shit!" He shouted as he led the walkers away from her.

"I'm not gonna leave you!" She called back.

"Get out!" He snapped. "Go up the road. I'll meet you there," he assured, running down the stairs to the embalming room.  
The walkers followed; he shot an arrow into the nearest one and threw his crossbow down, snatching up two sharp instruments. He pulled one steel rolling table with him as he backed up against the wall. The walkers converged on him, pushing against the table as they tried to reach for him. He stabbed as many as he could, then crawled under the table and through their legs, hiding behind the second table to do the same thing.

With most of them blocked off, he threw down one instrument and grabbed his crossbow. He sprinted up the stairs, taking out another walker and grabbing his arrow on the way.

He ran out the front door and down the driveway until he made it to the street, where he found Beth's black bag on the ground, the money and jewelry he'd taken from the country club strewn across the dirt.

Daryl looked up, saw the red tail lights swerving down the road as the tires squealed. In the back window, he could just make out a white cross.

"Beth!" He screamed, taking off after the car as it disappeared into the cold night.

.

Beth was gone. Daryl had run for miles chasing after the car with the white cross on the window. He ran until he couldn't breathe and then he kept running. He ran and ran and found himself at a three-way intersection with no idea which direction to go. So he just sat down. He had nothing left.

He could hear the voices and the footsteps approaching, but he didn't care. He wouldn't bother them so long as they left him alone. Alone. That's what he was now.

Beth had been the only reason he kept going. She'd been good and now she was gone, and he was alone.

Dirty black cowboy boots stopped in front of him and he glanced up, watching as the other men surrounded him with their guns.

"Well, lookit here."

He counted six.

The man who spoke stepped forward and reached for his crossbow. Daryl just reacted, punching the man and knocking him back. He stood, snatching up his crossbow. He aimed it at the man ignoring the guns pointed at him.

"Dammit, hold up!" The man snapped, holding his face.

"I'm claiming the vest. I like them wings," one of his companions said.

"Hold up," the man demanded again. He pulled his hand away from his nose and looked at the blood on it. He started laughing and stood up.

"A bowman," he said. "I respect that."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

The rabbit was in his sights. He'd been out since before dawn. He couldn't sleep – couldn't quiet his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes, he'd see them. All of them. It didn't help that he was surrounded by strangers.

Daryl clenched his jaw, focusing on what was in front of him. He released a bolt. At the same time, another arrow flew past his cheek, both embedding themselves in the rabbit.

He looked over his shoulder as he got to his feet. Standing there, with a shit-eating grin on his face, was Len.

"What the hell you doin'?" Daryl demanded of the scruffy man in the purple hoodie.

"Catching me some breakfast," Len said with a shrug.

"That's mine," Daryl snapped, storming over to the rabbit.

"My arrow's the one that hit first," Len insisted. "Cottontail belongs to me."

"Been out here since before the sun came up," Daryl griped.

"You see, the rules of the hunt don't mean jack out here," Len explained. "Now, that rabbit you're holding is claimed, boy."

Daryl glared at Len, yanking the arrows from the rabbit's carcass and tossing Len's into the brush.

"Claimed whether you like it or not. So I was you, I'd hand it over. Now. 'Fore you get to wishin' you ain't never even got out of bed this mornin'."

"It ain't yours," Daryl sneered, stepping up to the man.

"You know," Len started. "I'll bet this bitch got you all messed up," he hummed. "Am I right? Got you walkin' 'round here like a dead man who just lost himself a piece of tail."

Daryl shoved past him.

"Must've been a good'un. Tell me something. Was it one of the little'uns?" Len taunted.

Daryl froze, his hand snapping to his hunting knife. He undid the clasp, ready to pull it. His mind went to Beth, how innocent she was – if these men had found her—these were the type of men who would have hurt her – _had_ hurt Anna.

"'Cause they don't last too long out here."

He pulled his knife, and whirled around, aiming for Len's chest when Joe stepped between them.

"Easy, fellas, easy," he commanded, holding his hands out. "Let's just put our weapons down. See if we can't figure out what's really the problem here, huh?" Len smirked at Daryl. "Did you claim it?" Joe asked, looking to the man.

"Hell, yeah," Len nodded.

"Well, there you go. That critter belongs to Len," Joe said, holding his hand out for the rabbit. "So, let's have it."

Daryl didn't move. He kept his eyes on Len; his only thought was to stick a knife in the man's stupid, grinning mouth. He couldn't stop thinking about what Anna had been through with Randall's group. How many people had Len done the same thing to?

"Looks like you may be wanting an explanation," Joe sighed. "See, going it alone, that ain't an option nowadays. Still, it is survival of the fittest. That's a paradox right there," he explained.

Daryl really didn't care.

"So, I laid out some rules of the road to keep things from going Darwin every couple hours. Keep our merry band together and stress-free. All you got to do is claim."

Daryl looked to Joe.

"That's how you mark your territory, your prey, your bed at night. One word," Joe held up a finger. "Claimed."

"I ain't claiming nothin'," Daryl sneered.

"We're gonna teach him, right? The rules say we got to teach him," Len said eagerly.

"It wouldn't be fair to punish you for violating a rule you never even knew existed," Joe reasoned. Len scoffed.

"There ain't no rules no more," Daryl countered.

"Oh, there are. You know that. That's why I didn't kill you for the crossbow," Joe reminded. He reached down and grabbed the rabbit's ears. Daryl flinched, trying to pull away.

"Hey. Easy there, partner."

Daryl refused to release the rabbit as Joe pressed it against a tree, pulling out his tomahawk and chopping the dead animal in half. He tossed the front half to Len, who caught it and walked away seeming dissatisfied.

"Claimed," Joe said. "That's all you got to say."

Daryl grimaced down at the lower half of the rabbit and glared back at Joe.

"Hey, ass end is still an end."

.

"So, what's the plan, Daryl?" Joe asked as they walked down the tracks at an easy pace.

"How so?"

"You're with us now, but you ain't soon?" Joe clarified.

"Yep." Daryl nodded.

"So, what's the plan?" Joe pushed.

"Just lookin' for the right place is all," Daryl explained.

"Oh, we ain't good enough for you, huh?"

"Some of you ain't exactly friendly." Truthfully, he didn't think he'd last long with these guys – not with Len trying to give him a beating over anything.

"You ain't so friendly yourself," Joe countered. "You know you need a group out here."

"Maybe I don't," Daryl muttered. He didn't think he could handle another group. Not after last time.

"No, you do," Joe insisted. "You should be with us. People don't get to be friendly. We don't have to be nice. We don't have to be brothers in arms." They didn't have to be anything his people had been. "We just got to follow the rules. You claim. If you steal, you keel. I know that sounds a little funny, but nobody laughs when something goes missing. And you don't lie," Joe listed. "'Cause that's a slippery slope indeed."

"What happens if you break 'em?"

"Oh, you catch a beatin'," Joe said. "The severity of which depends upon the offense and the general attitude of the day. But that don't happen much 'cause when men like us follow rules and cooperate a little bit, well… the world becomes ours."

Joe paused in his speech and whistled, calling the others' attention.

"Right there," he said, pointing to a warehouse just off the tracks. "It's our abode for the evening."

The men headed for the rundown building, but Daryl hung back.

"Hey," he called to Joe. "There ain't no us."

"You leaving right now?" Joe asked. "No? Then it sure seems like there's an us," he chuckled. He went to keep walking, but he paused. "You a cat person, Daryl? I am. Loved 'em since I was three years old. Vicious creatures. Anyway," he took a drag from his cigarette. "I'll tell you, and this is true, ain't nothin' sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he's an indoor cat."  
Daryl watched him leave for a moment, considering his words. He couldn't help but wonder; was that what he was?

.

"You've got to be kidding me! Christ," Len hissed. The man's eyes landed on Daryl where he lay on the ground with his stuff. He stormed up to him. "Give it here," he demanded.

"You step back," Daryl warned, getting to his feet.

"My half was in the bag. Now it's gone," Len explained. "Now, ain't nobody around here interested in no half a damn cottontail except you. Ain't that right?" Len sneered.

"You're the only one still thinking about that crap," Daryl snapped.

"Empty your bag," Len commanded, reaching for Daryl black trash bag of belongings.

"I said step back!" Daryl shouted, snatching up his stuff, holding it behind him.

Joe approached then, ripping the bag from Daryl's grasp.

"Did you take his rabbit, Daryl? Just tell me the truth," he instructed.

"I didn't take nothin'," Daryl insisted.

"What do we got here? Come on," he sighed, turning the bag over and emptying its contents on the ground. The lower half of the rabbit fell out. Joe shook the plastic bag. The upper half of the rabbit tumbled to the ground.

"Well, look at that."

Daryl stared at both halves of the rabbit, then at Len, a grin on his face.

"You put that there, didn't you?" Daryl shouted. "When I went out to take a piss."

"You lied," Len hissed. "You lied. You stole – we gonna teach this fool or what, Joe?"

"Who, whoa," Joe said, stepping between the two. "Now, Daryl says he didn't take your half of the rabbit. So, we got a little conundrum here. Either he's lying, which is an actionable offense, or…" Daryl could see the other men gathering around. "Or you didn't plant it on him like some pussy, punk-ass, cheating, coward cop, did you?" Joe asked, turning to face Len. "'Cause while that wouldn't be specifically breaking the rules, it'd be disappointing."

"It would," Len agreed with a hum. "I didn't."

"Good," Joe said. Daryl tensed. After everything, he was about to get beat to death by a bunch of—

Joe swung, striking Len hard in the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Well, teach him a lesson, gents," he instructed. "He's a lying sack of shit. I'm sick of it. Teach him all the way." Joe turned to Daryl, wiping his hair out of his face. "I saw him do it."

"Why didn't you try to stop him?"

"He wanted to play that out. I let him," he explained. "You told the truth. He lied. You understand the rules. He doesn't." Joe bent over and picked up the upper half of the rabbit, tossing it to Daryl. "Looks like you get the head, too."

Daryl held the rabbit, watching as the others laid into Len, kicking and punching. Daryl knelt down and started gathering his things, pointedly ignoring the sounds of impact and Len's cries of pain.

.

Len was dead, and they moved on. Daryl had considered covering his corpse with a tarp, and he'd almost done it – but then he'd thought of all the trouble Len had tried to stir up, thought of what he'd said back in those woods – what kind of man Len was. He didn't deserve the decency.

Now, they were walking through a field headed for more train tracks. Daryl and Joe walked side by side at the back of the group. Joe took a drink from his flask and sighed in satisfaction.

"White Lightning," he said, handing Daryl the flask. "Easiest thing to make with the least amount of supplies."

Daryl accepted the drink and tilted his head back. The liquid hit his tongue like cold electricity.

"I'd start slow if I was you. Your stomach's probably emptier than you think," Joe warned.

Daryl hummed in response, passing the flask back to Joe.

"I ain't been lit at dawn since before everything fell apart," he explained.

"Fell apart," Joe huffed. "I never looked at it like that. Seems to me like things are finally starting to fall together. At least for guys like us. Living like this, surviving. We've been doing this from the start, right?"

Daryl thought about it. Joe was right. The others, they'd lost so much with the end of the world. But Daryl? He'd had nothing to lose.

They walked up the incline and onto the tracks as Tony stared at a sign.

"Getting closer," Tony said, walking on.

Daryl stepped forward, reading the words. _Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive. Terminus._ He couldn't let himself believe that maybe Beth had been taken there, or that _if_ anyone had survived the prison they would be there. Because they were gone.

"You seen this before?" Daryl asked, looking to Joe as he pointed at the map.

"Oh, yeah. I'll tell you what it is," Joe began. "It's a lie."

Daryl grimaced, and they kept walking. "Ain't no sanctuary for all. Ain't gonna welcome guys like you and me with open arms."

"So, is that where we're headed?" Daryl pushed.

"So, now you're asking?"

"That's right," Daryl nodded.

Joe sighed, shaking his head. "We were in a house minding our own business and this walking piece of fecal matter was hiding in the home. Strangled our colleague Lou and left him to turn," he explained. "Lou came at all of us. He lit out. We tracked him to these tracks, one of those signs, and thus we've got a destination in mind."  
"You see his face?"

"Only Tony," Joe said. "That's enough for a reckoning."

Daryl nodded, adjusting his crossbow over his shoulder. He spotted Tony staring down at a bush of wild fruit on the side of the tracks and rushed forward.

"Claimed," he called. Tony backed off, and Daryl stooped to pick it out from the ground.

Maybe with Len gone Daryl could stay. Maybe these guys weren't so bad. Maybe he could start over.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

They had been walking the better part of the morning, following the tracks. They still had a three day walk ahead of them, but Glenn could feel it. Terminus was within reach. Maggie was.

"I'm well aware it sounds bananas. But looking at the fossil record, knowing what I know about this infection, you cannot say for certain it isn't what killed off the dinosaurs," Eugene chattered on in his monotone drawl.

"Come on, man, seriously?" Jay asked with a chuckle.

"Do I believe that's what happened? No. But it's enjoyable as hell to think about an undead ankylosaur going after a diplodocus. That there is a video game worth a pre-order," Eugene continued.

Glenn didn't care what they talked about, so long as they kept moving. As long as the sun was up, they were going to keep walking.

"What would the game even be called?" Jay asked. "Dino-bites?" It was silent again for brief moment as he considered. "Nah, that sounds like a cereal."

.

The sun set, the crickets were out, and the owls were hunting. They set up camp on the tracks. Glenn thought to keep moving, but he was dead on his feet. He needed rest – he needed to be alert for the rest of the trip.

Rosita had made up some beans for dinner, and the group of six ate in silence around the fire. They soon hunkered down to sleep. But Glenn couldn't close his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, he got to his feet and walked to the edge of camp, arms crossed over his chest. He stared down the tracks towards Terminus, his chest tight. Rather than focus on the distance he bowed his head and started counting the rocks.

"Hey."

Glenn looked up just as Jay came to stand beside him.

"You alright, man?" He asked.

Glenn wiped at his face and groaned. The nights were getting colder – he hoped that Maggie had found some warm clothes on her trip.

"Just can't stop thinking about her," Glenn explained. He had already told all of them about Maggie. "I can't sleep not knowing. And I don't know why I'm telling you any of this."

Jay shrugged beside him. "I'm just easy to talk to."

"You remind me of someone," Glenn blurted out.

He had felt that way since he first saw Jay. It was in his nose, his jawline, the way he carried himself.

"Who?"

"I—I can't quite place it." Glenn muttered. He shook his head and brought his hands up to massage the back of his neck. "So, what's the deal with this whole saving the world thing?"

"It's bullshit,"

Glenn was taken back, confused. He looked at Jay.

"So, why are you with them?"

Jay stretched his neck, shoving his hands in his front pockets. Glenn could see the gears turning in his head - another thing that made him think of someone he knew…

"What the hell else was I supposed to do?" Jay finally said, scratching the patchy beard growing on his chin. "I needed a ride, they had one."

"But you don't believe it?" Glenn clarified.

"Not a whole lot I believe in these days," Jay sighed. "But we all need something to keep us going,"

.

At the crack of dawn, they were walking. Glenn kept his eyes on their surroundings, rifle ready in case of anything.

"Been rubbing me wrong is all. I'm an even-Steven type gentleman," Eugene explained to Tara. "You help me find the supplies, we'll share the battery and whatever juice we scare up, minimal as it may be. Deal?" He asked.

"What would you even use a homemade battery for?" Jay asked.

"Loads of stuff—"

"Glenn," Tara called, walking up to another Terminus sign. Only this one was different. This one had blood on it. Eight words and Terminus underlined, waiting for him to see.

 _Glenn, Daryl – Go to Terminus – Maggie, Anna, Sasha, Bob._

He read the message. Twice, three times over, until his brain finally caught up with reality. They were alive. Maggie, Anna, Sasha, Bob. They were alive, and they were heading for Terminus. He was right. They were alive.

And he ran.

.

Tara was limping. She'd gotten hurt when Abraham pushed her out of the way, protecting Eugene from a walker. The only way Glenn could keep them moving was by giving up his riot gear to the scientist. He felt naked without it, but that didn't matter. They were moving

They came up on a tunnel and another message for him and Daryl to go to Terminus, and he suddenly wished the hunter was with him. If Anna was leaving these messages with Maggie, that meant Daryl didn't know she was alive. Glenn knew that feeling – not knowing. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Glenn touched the blood letters.

"We're gaining on 'em. Still wet," he explained. He stared down the pitch black tunnel. They were so close.

"We sure as Shinola can't go up and over," Abraham said, and the group looked at the steep incline of the hill the tunnel went through. "How 'bout around?"

"No," Glenn sighed. "That'll take a day, maybe more. If Maggie went through, I'm going through. We're close."

"Shut up a second," Abraham grumbled. "You hear that?"

Within the tunnel, they could hear the snarling of walkers in the dark.

"Hate to say it, Glenn, but you go through that tunnel, there's no guarantee you make it to the other side," Jay sighed. "You really want to risk that?"

"I don't have full-on certainty that I can get Eugene through there alive. My recommendation would be take the day, make the detour, and play it safe," Abraham said. "But I know you're not gonna do that. So this is where we've got to part ways. I'm sorry. You're on your own."

"No, you're not," Tara corrected.

Abraham knelt in front of Glenn, digging through his pack and pulling out two cans of fruit.

"No, no, no. Those are yours. You guys will need them for your trip," Glenn said, shaking his head.

"You will, too," Abraham insisted. Glenn hesitated. With a sigh, Tara limped forward and accepted the offering.

"Thank you," Glenn sighed. "Sorry I… hit you in the face."

"I'm not," Abraham laughed. "I like to fight."

Rosita stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Glenn. "Good luck. Try not to be an ass," she teased before hugging Tara.

"You're both good people," Eugene started, before he turned his full attention to Tara. "I have to say that you are seriously hot, Tara."

"Yeah, I like girls," Tara said, scrunching up her face. Jay snorted.

"I'm well aware of that," Eugene replied.

Abraham stepped forward, looking between the tunnel and Glenn. "Say you get into trouble in there. You turn around. We're doubling back to the first road we crossed," he explained. "Maybe you find us before we find the right ride."

"Thanks," Glenn nodded.

Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene all turned to head back, but Jay stayed, squinting up at the sun. They paused to look back.

"Jay! You comin'?" Abraham called.

Jay shook his head, "Nah – I think I want to see how this plays out."

"You serious?" Abraham guffawed.

"The hell else am I gonna do? Go save the world with you three? You know I never believed that," he said, turning to his long-time companions with a shrug.

Abraham walked forward and laid a heavy hand on Jay's shoulder.

"It was good servin' with you," he said.

Jay grinned awkwardly, clapping Abraham on the arm.

"Stop, you're making me blush," he laughed.

With their final goodbyes exchanged, Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham walked off. Tara, Glenn, and Jay watched them until they disappeared behind the tree line, and then turned to the tunnel.

"You sure you want to go with us? It's not too late to turn back," Glenn said, working his jaw as he stared into the heart of darkness.

He felt Jay's hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go find your friends."

.

"What about you? What's your story?" Glenn asked as they carried on through the darkness, the flashlight Abraham had given Glenn the only thing lighting their way. On any other day, he might not have asked so many questions. But the silence, the anticipation, it was killing him.

Jay shrugged, following after Tara.

"Not much of a story. I was headed East, found a ride with Abraham and the others, now I'm here," he said.

"That's it?" Glenn pushed.

Jay cracked his neck and grimaced. "That's all that matters."

They came up on a pile of rubble then. Glenn shined the light up to the ceiling. A cave in.

"The blood is still wet," Tara exclaimed, crouched in front of the rocks, a walker hanging limp inside. "This had to have happened today."

Glenn scanned the area, shining his light down a small path, walkers reaching out like something out of Dante's Inferno.

"Hold this," Glenn commanded, passing his flashlight to whoever was next to him. He kept his eyes on the two female walkers. He plunged his knife into the first blonde haired walker, then moved on to a long-haired brunette. He stuck his knife into her skull before he pulled her face up. It wasn't Anna.

The path ended there, so Glenn went up. He climbed the pile of rocks until he reached the top.

"Flashlight," Glenn said, extending his arm without looking at them. Tara put the black flashlight in his hand, then she and Jay climbed up beside him.

"Glenn, what are you doing?" Tara asked as he shined the light on the crowd of walkers below, riling them up.

He scanned their faces.

"She's not one of them," he declared.

"What?" Tara asked again.

"There are no bodies on the ground," Jay informed.

"That means Maggie made it through," Glenn nodded. "They made it through. We have to get rid of them."

"We don't have enough ammo," Jay said, shaking his head.

"Then we'll push through," Glenn insisted.

"We have to find another way," Tara pleaded.

"Maybe not," Jay muttered. Tara and Glenn looked to him. He was staring off to the left. "I think I have an idea."

.

"I like to call it Shadow-Puppet Theatre," Jay grinned, positioning the flashlight between two rocks so it wouldn't roll away as it shined on a walker stuck in the cave-in. Its shadow splayed out on the wall.

Glenn peered over the pile to see the walkers on the other side taking the bait. He climbed over first, keeping his eyes on the walkers, in case they noticed them. Jay followed him first, then Tara made her way down.

She lost her footing, however, and a section of debris collapsed on her ankle. She let out a pained gasp.

"Tara!" Glenn hissed, turning back to her. He grabbed hold of the piece of cement and pulled. It was too heavy for him. Jay's hands joined him.

"Shit," Jay groaned as the cement piece lifted off her ankle.

"Can you walk?"

"No," Tara sobbed. "Go."

Glenn stared at her, unsure if he heard her correctly.

"I said go. Find Maggie," she snapped.

"No, no." Glenn shook his head, his hands hovering over her. Jay took point, watching for any threats.

"No, Glenn – you can't save me. I can't run, and if you carry me, they're gonna get all of us," Tara explained evenly.

"There's got to be a way," Glenn insisted. "There's got to be a different way."

"Glenn, they're coming," Jay called over his shoulder, aiming his .45 at the approaching walkers.

He hated himself for turning from her. He couldn't leave her. Even after everything – not after everything.

"I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you!"

"Get out of here!" Tara shrieked. "Go!"

"No! Jay, keep them off us, I'll carry her."

Jay nodded, firing his first round into the nearest walker.

Suddenly, the tunnel was flooded with bright lights and a single, familiar voice filled Glenn's ears.

"Get down!"

And he did. He fell on top of Tara, covering her with his body as the bullets went flying. He could just see Jay jump out of the way as the walkers were mowed down.

When the gunfire faded, Glenn slowly uncurled himself from around Tara. He looked into the light and saw seven silhouettes. He squinted past the lights as one ran forward. His vision cleared, and he saw her.

"Maggie," he breathed.

She pulled him into her and they clung to each other. She pulled away only long enough to kiss him. He wanted to sob. He wanted to cry out, scream – anything to let it out. All he could feel was relief and happiness flood through him. She was alive. She was here.

When they finally pulled apart, Maggie led him towards the group. Sasha and Bob stepped up to him, wrapping their arms around him.

"They wouldn't stop looking for you," Sasha said as they pulled away. She and Bob stepped to the side, allowing him to see Anna standing there awkwardly.

"Hey, Rhee," she said, a grin on her face. But then it fell away. Her eyes went wide as she stared over his shoulder.

"Anna?"


	20. Chapter Nineteen

"Anna?"

She stared at him, her whole body frozen. She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

 _This isn't real,_ she thought to herself. It couldn't be.

 _I'm dead. I died in this tunnel when Maggie collapsed the ceiling. This is all some sick death dream,_ she reasoned.

He pushed through Glenn and Maggie and the others and walked toward her. She took a step back, shaking her head. She could feel the tears stinging her eyelids.

 _He's not here._

"Anna—" his voice hitched. "I saw your name on the signs. I—I didn't think—" he swallowed. She watched his throat bob up and down as he did.

It was his voice, his face, his everything. But it couldn't be him. It couldn't be. That wasn't how the world worked. Anna shook her head, the tears falling down her face. She covered her mouth to stifle the sob that ripped from her chest.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing his ghost to disappear, reminding herself that it wasn't him. And then she felt his warm hands on her. She felt him pull her into his chest, his arms winding around her, and she buried her face into his shoulder, her legs giving out.

They fell to the ground, clutching each other, tears rolling down their faces, sobs wracking their bodies. She didn't dare let go as she pulled away to look at him, to kiss his face, to see him. To know he was real.

"Jessie," she breathed.

Her brother was alive.

.

They set up camp in the tunnel for the night after moving the walkers. Rosita made a large can of beans over the fire and dished them out to everyone. Introductions were made, stories were swapped. It was peaceful.

Anna sat beside her brother, so close they bumped into each other every time they moved. They didn't care though. The bumps, the proximity – it reminded them that they were there. Together.

"I have to know," Jessie said through a mouthful of beans before he swallowed them. "What happened to your face?" he asked, pointing a finger at his temple.

Anna grimaced, scratching at the scar on the side of her face. It had faded over the months, but the silvery line in her skin was still noticeable under the right light. She shook her head and took a deep breath.

"Let's save the damage talk for another time," she suggested, leaning her head on his shoulder. He was solid and real. He was solid and real, and they had found each other. She felt him nod once before returning to his food. "But I have to ask. Why did you tell them your name was Jay?"

Jessie grinned sheepishly. "I've been going by Jay since the outbreak. I don't know, I guess it just felt safer."

"Shit, I don't know why I never thought of that," Anna muttered.

"Watch your fucking mouth," Jessie deadpanned. They burst into a fit of laughter, Anna's heart overflowing with joy at hearing the familiar quip he gave whenever she'd curse. She never thought she'd hear it again. She flipped him off as the others chuckled, a smile still on her face. He lightly punched her arm, and silence settled back over the camp.

"So, how did you meet Glenn and Tara?" Sasha asked.

"We were on our way to Washington when we found them on the side of the road," Abraham explained.

"What's in Washington?" Bob asked.

"Here we go," Jessie sighed, setting his empty bowl aside. Anna furrowed her brow.

"Eugene here is a scientist. And he knows what caused this thing and how to stop it," Abraham stated, leaning forward.

Anna's eyes widened, and she looked at her brother. He merely shook his head.

"We'd be much obliged if you all came with us."

Glenn, Maggie, Rosita, and Tara walked up then, and Sasha stood, pointing a finger at Abraham as she stared in astonishment at Glenn.

"What's up?" Glenn asked.

"He just said that he knows what caused the outbreak," she breathed.

Glenn bowed his head. "Yeah, he does. Let me guess," he started. "He asked you to go to DC with him?"

Abraham leaned back against the debris, clearing his throat.

"I'm downright tickled y'all found each other. Should spend the rest of the night celebrating. Because tomorrow, there's absolutely no reason why the ten of us don't stuff ourselves in that van and head up to Washington."

"Sounds like a hell of a road trip," Anna grumbled.

"He's right," Tara said, looking to Glenn. "I'm gonna go."

"No, he's wrong," Eugene declared. Everyone turned their attention to him. "We're 55% of the way from Houston to Washington. Up until now, we've had an armored military vehicle for transport and we lost eight people," he explained.

"That wasn't our fault," Rosita insisted. Anna could feel Jessie tensing beside her.

"They're gone," Abraham snapped.

"I can't imagine we'd have better luck with that grocery grabber we picked up," Eugene continued. "We're a day's walk from Terminus. Who knows what they've got there?"

Rosita sighed, "Look, it couldn't hurt to check. Load up on supplies, maybe even recruit some of them to come with," she offered.

"I'll go with you guys," Sasha proclaimed. "But after. I have to see Terminus. My brother could be there," she took a deep breath. "I got to know."

"Me, too." Bob said, looking to Sasha. "On both counts."

Jessie ran his hand down his face. "Look," he started. "I still think this whole thing is bullshit, but—" he looked to Anna and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I go where my sister goes."

Abraham stood up with a grimace.

"He tells me I'm wrong, I listen," he said before addressing the group. "Tomorrow we go to the end of the line. Then Washington."

.

After dinner, and discussing Washington, everyone laid down for bed. Except Anna. She couldn't sleep, so instead she wandered to the opening of the tunnel to sit watch. She stared out into the night, her mind reeling. She was still trying to process the fact that she had found her brother. Alive.

"What are you doing out here?"

Anna jumped at the sudden intrusion and turned to see Jessie walking up to her, rubbing at his eyes and yawning as he stood beside her.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted.

"Too happy to see your big brother, I take it," he teased, bumping her shoulder with his.

Anna smiled, shaking her head.

"I am happy to see you…" she trailed off.

"But?" Jessie pushed.

"But, after Terminus… I can't go to DC."

"I said it already, Anna," Jessie started, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Where you go, I go. I'm not leaving you now that I've found you."

"Technically, I found you," Anna corrected. Jessie scoffed, and they fell into a companionable silence.

"So, why can't you go to DC?" He finally asked.

Anna didn't say anything for a long time, considering her words. She wondered how Jessie would feel knowing she was about to risk everything to find a man who might not even be alive.

"I have to find someone. He—" she paused. "He may not even be alive, but I have to know."

"You love him?"

Anna flinched. She'd never thought about it before. It had just seemed so easy, as natural as breathing, to be with Daryl. She liked him, of course. A lot. But love him? Love had never really crossed her mind – at least not in the sense her brother was asking her about.

But the fact of the matter was, Anna was willing to put her life on the line just to find him, based solely on the tiniest chance that he could be alive.

"I think… I think I do."

"You think?"

"I never really thought about it," Anna shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. It was getting colder the further North they went. "He saved my life – a lot of people did, but… yeah. I love him." She smiled at the way the sentence rolled of her tongue, at the way it made her heart flutter.

Jessie squinted down at her, processing her words, and then nodded.

"Alright – we'll look for your boyfriend."

.

The next morning, the steadily growing group headed out, choosing to follow the tracks on foot. Maggie and Glenn walked side by side at the front, Bob and Sasha behind them with Abraham and Rosita at the rear. Eugene, Jessie, Anna, and Tara made up most of the middle of their caravan.

For the most part they walked in silence, but that only lasted so long. At some point, Eugene started talking Tara's ear off, Jessie chiming in every once in a while with a remark.

Everything seemed normal – as normal as their situation could be. But Anna's mind was on one thing – Tara. Her mind made up, she quickened her pace and tapped the woman on the shoulder.

"Mind if I borrow her for a moment, Eugene?" Anna asked. The man nodded, turning his attention on Jessie to discuss the nuances of Engineering.

The two slowed their pace until they were out of ear shot of the others.

"Thank you," Tara sighed, smiling gratefully. "I don't know how to get him to stop talking."

"Don't be too happy," Anna said, her voice flat as she kept her eyes in front of her. "I know who you are."

Tara tensed beside her.

"I saw you in my scope – you were with The Governor." She wanted to be angry. She wanted to put a bullet between Tara's eyes – which she hated, but that was a topic for another day. But she saw the way Tara looked at Maggie, at Glenn, and at Sasha and Bob— and her. She recognized the guilt.

The Governor could be persuasive. Anna tried and failed to fault Tara for falling for his charm. Who knew how many times Anna had fallen for the same kind of manipulation from Marley?

Tara said nothing, her sad eyes on the ground as they walked behind the others.

"I get it," Anna said finally. "It's scary out here, and when someone tells you there's a safe place – you'd have been stupid not to follow."

"It was stupid to ever leave that apartment," Tara muttered.

"You couldn't have stayed there forever. The Governor – Philip – he was a load of shit tied up in a nice bow. Really good at getting people to do what he wanted. I fought for him once – almost killed my friends because of it," Anna explained. Tara looked to her astonished. "And I can see the guilt. You carry it around like an extra layer of clothes."

"He said his name was Brian," Tara whispered.

Anna shook her head, "Brian, Philip, The Governor – it doesn't matter what he called himself, he was the same person. He did terrible things."

"So did I…"

"We've all had to do things – been forced or manipulated - but we did them," Anna stopped walking. "We don't have to like what we did – it's better if we don't. But we can come back from it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I did… once." Anna bowed her head, considering her next words carefully. "I'll be honest with you, Tara, the moment I saw you, I knew who you were, I wanted to put a bullet in your skull." Tara flinched. "But I didn't. I didn't because I'm not the person who does that. I was… not too long ago. But I'm not anymore."

"How? How do you come back?"

"We're here!"

The two looked ahead and saw the others had stopped, staring up at a train warehouse. Under the windows of the top floor were painted letters spelling out Terminus. They'd made it.

Anna looked back to Tara. Tara blinked at her.

"You find something good. You hold onto it and you never let go," Anna said before she turned and jogged to catch up to the others.

They made their way through the depot and passed a vegetable and fruit garden, keeping their guns aloft in case of trouble. Anna's heart was racing in her chest as they made their way to the front gates, where a sign read _Lower your weapons, you will be met, you have arrived at Terminus._

And they did. They rounded the corner, following the scent of cooking meat. There, standing at a long grill, was a woman. As they approached, she turned towards them and smiled, walking around the grill to greet them.

"Hi, I'm Mary," she said. "Looks like you've been on the road a while," she sighed.

"We have," Maggie replied.

"Let's get you settled, and we'll make you a plate…. Welcome to Terminus."


	21. Chapter Twenty

_Anna laughed heartily, clutching her stomach as she leaned over, barely able to breathe. Her diaphragm ached from the strain and tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she could not stop laughing._

 _"I can't believe—" she wheezed through her laughter. "—we did that."_

 _Marley had collapsed onto the ground, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, a toothy grin plastered across her face. Anna fell to her knees beside her friend, her laughter finally dying out. She continued to smile, massaging her aching cheeks._

 _"You're never going to forget this." Marley breathed. She rolled onto her side and grasped Anna's forearm, her grip tight. "I won't let you forget, Anna," she said, staring hard at Anna. "I will never let you forget."_

 _Anna nodded slowly, the smile dropping away from her face. "I won't forget," she assured._

 _"You'll remember this forever," Marley insisted, her grip on Anna's arm tightening. Anna winced and reached up to push Marley's hand off her._

 _Before Anna could blink, Marley's fingers were wrapped around her throat, pushing her to the cold ground._

 _"Marley!" Anna cried, her voice strained under the pressure of Marley's hands. "Stop!" she choked out._

 _"You did this, Anna!" Marley shrieked. "This is your fault! You're fault!" Marley pulled Anna's head up and slammed it back against the ground. "Why did you do it, Anna!"_

 _Anna clawed desperately at Marley's hands. "We can work this out," she begged._

 _"This is the way it has to be," Marley hissed into her ear._

 _In the distance, Anna could hear the rumble of thunder clouds and a scream ripping through the air like some wounded animal. Anna cast her eyes about for any way to defend herself._

 _"You did this to me." Marley growled. Anna looked to Marley – what used to be Marley – staring back at her with the eyes of the dead._

Anna's eyes snapped open and she stared at the cracked ceiling of the dark cell. She calmed herself, counting the chips in the paint until her heart slowed and her breathing evened out. Her chest was still tight as she sat up, careful not to wake Daryl beside her.

Daryl had gotten back from a run with Rick and Glenn the day before. A scouting mission, really. But she could tell he was exhausted. So she let him sleep.

As deftly as she could, she crawled out of bed and knelt in front of the light blue chest in the corner, filled with their clothes. She checked to make sure he was still sound asleep before she started to change.

Ever since they'd started sharing, Anna had been careful to change when he wasn't in the cell or was asleep. She hadn't wanted him to see her thigh – she wasn't ready for that conversation. Truthfully, she didn't know how to explain to him where she had gotten those particular scars. She didn't think he would understand.

Once she was dressed, Anna picked up their bedside lantern and headed out of the cell block, turning on the lantern only when she was in the corridor, and then made her way to the library.

It was still being cleaned. They'd cleared it out maybe a month ago, and Anna had spent a considerable amount of time in there, just going through the books. She chose to store Milton's journals there, deciding it was better not to work where she slept. She'd never put them down then.

But she wasn't there for books or a dead man's journals. She was there for a map.

Anna had stashed the map in the research box of Milton's journals, hiding it from the others. Of course, that meant they had to get a new one. She didn't feel bad, though - with all the lines and markings drawn on the map, it only found use with her.

She pulled it from the box and laid it out on the table, setting the lantern down. Smoothing her hands over the paper, Anna's eyes followed a black line that had been put down roughly two months ago. It ran from the prison's approximate location through the town of Moreland. From there, she followed it down until she found its end point at Fort Benning, and she tapped it with her finger.

.

"We just got back from a run, and you want to go out again?" Glenn asked, incredulous. The council - Sasha, Hershel, Carol, Glenn, and Daryl – exchanged concerned looks.

"That was more of a scouting mission," Anna corrected. "You guys didn't bring anything back."

"I guess your run has nothing to do with the place they scouted, though," Carol sighed, her hands clasped on the table in front of her.

"No, this place is good to go – hell, I can do it by myself—"

"Not happenin'," Daryl interrupted. " _If_ you go, you ain't goin' alone."

Anna clenched her jaw. She knew it was going to be hard to convince the council to allow the run - she also knew it was going to be impossible to go on her own.

"I know I can't go alone – that's why I want to take Rick."

"Why Rick?" Glenn asked. "Why not me, or Daryl? Or both of us—"

"Because Daryl has to go hunt and you haven't spent enough time with your wife," Anna chided.

They considered her for a moment.

"How long is this run gonna take?" Sasha asked.

"One day - but I'm asking for two,"

"How far away is this place? Where?" Hershel asked.

"Moreland," Anna said. "I passed through it not too long ago – it's good, it's only seven miles," she assured.

"So then why are you asking for two days?" Sasha asked, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Half a day to get there and scout the area, go through it with a fine tooth comb – make sure we don't miss anything, then head back the next day," Anna explained like she'd rehearsed.

"What vehicle?"

"The pick-up."

"Why not take more than just Rick?"

"You need the people here on the fences."

Anna could see that she was winning them over – she'd come to this meeting prepared, ready for any argument they may come up with.

"Alright," Sasha relented. "You've got two days and the pick-up—"

"Only if Rick goes with you," Daryl cut in. Anna nodded, plastering a grin to her face before she turned to leave.

"One more thing," Carol called.

Anna paused at the door and turned back to face them.

"Have you given anymore thought about our offer?"

.

They swayed with the truck as they barreled down the road away from the prison. Rick was in the driver's seat while Anna relaxed in the passenger seat – as much as she could relax. She stared out the window, watching the trees rush past.

"Hershel wants to start a farm in the field," Rick stated, breaking the silence.

"That sounds like a good idea," Anna replied, barely able to keep the disinterest out of her voice. She didn't care what they did. Her mind was focused on only one thing.

"Yeah… and he wants me to tend it."

Anna furrowed her brow and looked back at Rick. "Seriously?"

"Yeah…."

Anna looked him over. She tried picturing him in overalls and a straw hat, a piece of wheat sticking out of his mouth, but she couldn't. She could only see him with a hand on his gun.

"What do you think?" She asked.

He looked to her, considering her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the road.

"I think that's not the person I am."

.

It didn't take them long to make it to Moreland. She'd counted on it. She had everything planned down to the most minor detail. Things had to go perfectly for this to work.

They came to a stop at the edge of town and got out, guns in hand. Anna pulled the map from her back pocket and laid it out on the hood of the truck.

"So, I'd say we should circle the town – but we don't have enough fuel for that. I know there are some cars in the center of town that should still have some gas in them, so we'll siphon those," she explained.

Rick stared at the map, his eyes following the lines he and Marley and Anna had drawn on it, marking out possible routes and contingency plans.

"We start from this side and push our way South? Focus on the main road?" Rick asked, using his finger to draw out the route. Anna nodded. "Sounds good."

With their plan laid out, Anna tucked the map into her back pocket. The two checked their weapons and started towards the town, guns and eyes trained on their surroundings. They slowly pushed their way through the town, clearing the buildings as they went, determining if there was anything worth taking. In all, it took the better part of a few hours.

Once they reached town square, they paused beside a dust and dirt covered car that sat abandoned in the middle of the road. The car Anna and Marley had taken on their way to Fort Benning.

Rick paid it no mind as he leaned against it, pulling a bottle of water from his pack and taking a drink before he passed it to Anna. She accepted it and took a sip.

"We should be done clearing the main road in a few hours, then we'll bring the truck back, start loading it with the things we've found and fill up the tank," Anna said, twisting the cap back on the bottle and passing it back to Rick.

"We'll probably need to camp here for the night," Rick commented, looking up at the sky as he tucked the bottle back in his bag.

Anna nodded, and the two continued down the road.

.

They'd finished clearing the main road and moved the truck into the town square, filling the tank and setting up camp in the bed of the pick-up. They ate cold beans for dinner and sat in silence, listening to the sounds of night around them.

"We've got a good haul. We should probably find another car to take everything back," Anna said through a mouthful of beans.

Rick nodded, scooping some more beans into his mouth.

Anna watched him for a moment. He hadn't spoken much on this trip. Neither of them had. She considered how compliant he'd been with her suggestions and wondered what was going through his mind. Anna shook her head, wishing she knew what he was thinking.

"I'll take first watch," Rick offered, tossing his empty can of beans to the ground and standing. "You look like you need some sleep."

"That your way of telling me I need to start wearing makeup again?" She asked, squinting up at him.

Rick smiled down at her. It didn't reach his eyes.

.

 _Your fault. Your fault!_

Anna gasped and sat up, staring wildly into the cool, early morning light. For a split second, she admired how late she had managed to sleep, but she remembered that Rick was supposed to wake her at least two hours ago.

"You were tossing and turning – I figured you could use as much sleep as you could get," Rick explained from the edge of the tail gate, as if he knew what she was thinking.

Anna grimaced as she stretched her back. She'd gotten used to the full-sized mattress she shared with Daryl. She heard and felt three pops in her spine as she twisted her back and let out a relieved sigh.

"Get ready and we'll start loadin' up – I found a car we can take," Rick said, tossing Anna a bottle of water.

Anna caught it and watched him wander off to give her some privacy.

Running her tongue over her teeth, Anna dug out her tooth brush and a sample tube of tooth paste. She climbed out of the bed of the truck and found a car to squat behind. Once finished with her morning routine, Anna found Rick had returned to the back to the truck and was waiting on her.

"Let's go," Anna said, approaching as she checked her gun.

Rick nodded, and they made their way to the South side of the main road. Back and forth they went, loading up the truck until it was full, and they had to move on to the car.

Everything was going according to plan. They'd finish loading everything up; Anna would take the car while Rick took the truck – but instead of following him to the prison, she'd make her way South.

Anna would find Marley where she'd left her to rot on the forest floor, and she'd bury her. Maybe then the nightmares would stop.

They were on the last building by the time the sun had started its descent. Rick stood to the side of the door, as always, while Anna took point, aiming her gun in front of her while she waited for Rick to push the door open. They may have cleared the buildings, but they weren't going to take any chances. They couldn't. Anna had a mission.

"Ready?" Rick whispered, his hand on the door knob. She nodded, and he pushed it open. She stepped inside, looking to the left than to the right and—

"GAH!" She cried, as two walkers leaped forward. She stumbled backwards, firing her gun just as it knocked into her. The bullet embedded itself in the ceiling as she fell back through the threshold and onto the ground, her gun flying out of her grasp.

"Anna!" Rick called as the first walker fell on top of her. She could see him aim for it as a second walker staggered out of the building.

"Rick, look out!" She shouted. He turned to face the second walker, its hands on him before he could fire a shot.

She tried to reach for her hunting knife strapped to her hip, but every time she brought her hand down, the walker's snapping teeth got closer to her face. She grunted, her chest tightening with the effort to keep the animated corpse at bay.

It snarled as she stared into its cloudy eyes and suddenly, she was back in the woods, facing what she'd done. Anna froze, her body slowly going limp. She stopped fighting. What was the point? She could practically feel the walker's teeth against her cheek.

"Shit!"

The walker jerked back, its weight leaving her. Anna didn't move. She stared at the sky, streaked pink and orange by the setting sun. Her ears were ringing, and she couldn't stop feeling the walkers teeth against her skin.

"You…" Rick started, coming into her field of vision, hovering over her, his hand outstretched, "...alright?"

Anna didn't answer as she slid her hand into his and pulled her herself to her feet. Dusting herself off, she numbly checked herself for damage. She didn't really care if she'd gotten hurt. It was just out of habit.

"Why didn't you fight back?"

Anna shrugged and brushed past him to pick up her gun. His hand on her elbow pulled her back to face him. She glared up at him.

"What do you want me to say Rick?" She snapped.

"This is about Marley, isn't it?"

Pain shot through her like lightning and she looked away, jerking her arm from his grasp.

 _So, he knew? Did the others?_

"You chose me to come with you for a reason – because you knew I would understand."

"Understand what?" She asked, unable to keep the harsh tone out of her voice. Anna was angry. Angry because she'd been found out. Or maybe she was angry because that walker hadn't killed her.

"The guilt," Rick finally said.

She stared back at him, tears pricking at her eyelids.

"She was your best friend."

"I can't stop thinking about her," she said before she could stop herself. But maybe he did understand. She remembered Shane – how Rick had to kill him. "How do I move forward? How did you?"

Rick shook his head. "Marley… she was going to kill you – us," he insisted. "You had to.

"I know!" She shouted, covering her face with her hands, letting out a frustrated groan. "I know...," she said, quieter this time.

Anna knew she had to. She knew that Marley wasn't going to let anything stop her from getting to Fort Benning and bringing soldiers back to the prison. But the nightmares - they wouldn't stop.

Her eyes landed on the silver bracelet around her wrist and she stared at the words. _May you live all the days of your life_. But how could Anna live with herself after what she'd done?

"Do you—" she paused, dropping her hands to her sides as she stared off down the road towards the prison. Could she even bring herself to go back there now? "Do you think we can ever come back from the things we've done?"

.

They drove back to the prison in separate vehicles after Rick convinced Anna not to go find Marley – that it would be too dangerous to get so close to Fort Benning. She couldn't risk leading the soldiers back to the prison. She wouldn't.

By the time they made it through the front gates, the sun had fallen below the horizon and most everyone had turned in for the night, so there wasn't a big welcome wagon for their return.

Anna parked in the carport and shut off the engine. She took a moment to breathe before she got out and met Rick between the two vehicles.

"We should leave unloading for the morning, we'll cover the back of the truck with a tarp just in case but…" he trailed off, looking at her. She knew what he saw. "It can wait until the morning," he said.

Anna nodded and turned away from him.

"Anna," he called softly. She paused and looked back at him. "It's going to be okay."

She wanted so badly to believe him.

.

The cell was dark and empty when Anna walked in. Daryl hadn't turned in yet. She was grateful for that as she set her bag on the bed. Slowly, she undid her holster and sheath, setting them down beside her bag.

Robotically, she reached into the chest in the corner and pulled out her night clothes, a pair of leggings and an oversized green shirt. Turning back to the bed, she tossed the clothing down and pulled her gun from its holster.

She stared at it.

9mm. 15 rounds in a clip. It was always with her. She couldn't imagine herself without it. She couldn't imagine herself as anything but a killer. Her hand tightened around the metal.

For a brief moment she considered putting it in her mouth and pulling the trigger. But only for a brief moment. She deserved far worse than a quick death. She deserved to suffer for what she did.

The gun felt heavy in her hands as she walked over to the clothes chest, kneeling in front of it.

 _"It's okay if you need to put it away," Rick assured, his hand covering hers on her gun._

Maybe that's what she needed to do. Anna pulled her extra changes of clothes to the side so that she could see the bottom of the chest. She set the gun inside and replaced the clothes, hiding it from view.

Maybe she needed to put it away, to live with the guilt, to make up for the things she'd done. Maybe she could come back from it. Maybe she could stop being that person.

She needed to stop being that person.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

"I forgot what this feels like," Rick muttered, tossing the rabbit bone to the side. He kicked out the fire of their meager little camp on the side of the road. Carl was asleep in a run-down truck. It was a familiar setting.

"Me too," Michonne agreed. "I hope we're able to forget soon."

"We're close," Rick assured. "Just got to make it through another day."

It had been six days since the prison fell and it still didn't seem real. But Carl, Rick, and Michonne had found each other – through everything they had found each other.

Rick made peace with the fact that almost everyone he'd ever known and loved was dead. He didn't have a choice in that. But he had his son and he had Michonne and they had a destination.

Terminus.

"If folks there are taking people in, they have to be strong, they have to have a system," he explained.

"I wonder if the whole thing's legit," Michonne admitted.

"We let people in," Rick offered.

"We did. So did the Governor," she countered.

"Yeah," Rick sighed. "It's always the same, isn't it? Don't get to know until we know. Maybe…" he clenched his jaw. "Maybe this place isn't even there anymore—"

He froze as the cool metal of a gun pressed against his temple.

"Oh, dearie me," drawled the man holding the gun. "You screwed up, asshole. You hear me? You screwed up."

Rick tried to look at him, but he pressed the gun harder into his face.

"Today is a day of reckoning, sir. Restitution," he jeered. "A balancing of the whole damn universe! Shit," he laughed.

Rick watched as four other men circled around them, weapons aimed and ready to fire should they even think of moving.

"And I was thinkin' of turnin' in for the night – on New Year's Eve!" The man bent down, his mouth near Rick's ear. "Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh?" He hissed before straightening.

"Nine Mississippi! Eight Mississippi!"

"Joe!" Rick flinched at the voice. "Hold up."

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It couldn't be real.

"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl," Joe griped.

Daryl Dixon walked out of the darkness, crossbow in hand as he stared between Rick and Michonne.

"Just hold up."  
"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about," snapped one of the other men.

"The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time," Joe sighed. "Say your piece, Daryl."

"These people, you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people," Daryl explained carefully, taking a step into the center of the circle.

"Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that," Joe argued. "I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all 'cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom!" he sneered, pushing the gun into Rick's temple again.

"You want blood, I get it," Daryl said, setting down his crossbow. "Take it from me, man. Come on." He held out his arms, ready to receive whatever punishment was coming.

"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people," Joe summarized. "See, now that right there is a lie. It's a lie!"

With a swift hit to the back of the knees from the man behind him, Daryl was on the ground.

"No!" Rick pleaded.

"Teach him, fellas. Teach him all the way."

"No!"

"Come here, boy!" Rick looked to the truck and saw a portly man throwing Carl to the ground.

"You leave him be!" Rick screamed, standing from the ground. Joe shoved him back down.

Michonne tried to rush the man holding her at gun point, but he pushed her back.

"You'll get yours. You just wait your turn," he grinned.  
"Listen, it was me. It was just me!" Rick said.

"See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie," Joe praised. "Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men. First," he pointed to Daryl, the two others kicking and punching at him. "We're gonna beat Daryl to death. Then," he pointed to Michonne. "We'll have the girl. Then the boy." He leaned down again so that he could hiss in Rick's ear. "Then I'm gonna shoot you and then we'll be square," he laughed.

"Let him go," Rick seethed, watching as the fat man climbed on top of his son.

" _They took turns. Had their fun."_ Anna's voice echoed through his head. This was what had happened to her. She'd struggled under the roaming hands of those men, listened to their cackling as they— and now it was going to happen to his son. _No_.

Rick threw his head back, hitting Joe hard in the gut, the gun going off next to his ear. He heard nothing but the ringing. He felt nothing. Nothing except rage.

He stood, facing Joe – seeing his face – and he lashed out, his fist connecting with the mans' jaw. Joe hit back, and Rick fell to the ground. He felt a boot land against his ribs.

"Come on, get up!" He heard distantly. "Come on! Let's see what you got!"

Rick's eyes landed on Carl, writhing on his stomach, the man smiling wildly behind him.

"Get away from him!" Rick roared, rising to his feet. He took one step forward and Joe was in front of him, wrapping his arms around him.

"What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?" Joe taunted, squeezing tight.

Rick stared at him, his face going blank, and for the briefest of moments he saw that switch in his mind. He saw it as it flipped and then his teeth were on Joe's neck, ripping and tearing, and Joe was screaming, his blood spraying across Rick's face.

.

.

The next morning Daryl, pulled a red rag from his pocket and poured some water on it as he walked up to Rick. The man was still shaking as he sat on the ground against the rundown truck. Daryl didn't blame him.

"We should save it to drink," Rick muttered as Daryl passed the rag to him

"You can't see yourself. He can," he said, sitting down beside his friend. Rick accepted the rag and started wiping at the blood that covered his face.

He could still see Joe collapsing to the ground, gurgling and choking on his blood, a chunk of his neck missing. He felt guilty. Not because of what happened to Joe, but because he had been useless – again.

"I didn't know what they were," Daryl said.

"How'd you wind up with them?" Rick asked.

"I was with Beth. We got out together – I was with her for a while," he explained.

"Is she dead?"

Daryl grimaced.

"She's just… gone…." Just like everyone else. "After that, that's when they found me. I mean, I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. Stupid, but it was something." He shook his head, wiping at his face. "It was enough."

"And you were alone," Rick continued. Daryl wanted to scoff.

"They said they were looking for some guy. Last night they said they spotted him," Daryl went on. "I was hanging back. I was gonna leave. But I stayed – that's when I saw it was you three. Right when you saw me."

Daryl clenched his fists, feeling his nails digging into his skin. He should have known. He should have known after what Len had said in the woods. He should've—

"I didn't know what they could do."

"It's not on you, Daryl," Rick sighed. Daryl worked his jaw. "Hey." He looked to Rick. "It's not on you," the man insisted. "You being back with us here, now? That's everything." Daryl nodded. "You're my brother."

Daryl stared at Rick for a moment, wondering how after everything Rick was still pushing his own issues aside for others. Daryl shook his head. It was Daryl's turn to comfort Rick.

"Hey," he said gently. "What you did last night… anybody would have done that."

"No… not that."

"Something happened. But, that ain't you," he pushed.

"Daryl," Rick said as he bowed his head. "You saw what I did to Tyreese. It ain't all of it, but that's me…. That's why I'm here now. That's why Carl is. I want to keep him safe. That's all that matters."

.

They made it. Terminus. But, after everything, they needed to be sure. They had to know it was safe. So, Rick decided they would scout it before going in through the back door. They weren't going to take any chances. Carl went with Michonne while Rick and Daryl partnered.

As they walked, Daryl was admittedly a little less then focused. There was something he couldn't get out of his mind.

"After your last run with Anna," he finally started, trying rather hard to keep the pain from his voice when he said her name. "You both stopped carryin' – you were both offered seats on the council, but you both said no."

"That's right," Rick said, keeping his eyes on their surroundings as they walked around the perimeter.

"What happened?" He asked.

Rick sighed, shaking his head before he scratched the bridge of his nose. They stopped walking and Daryl waited for his answer.

"That run… it wasn't for supplies. She—" he paused. "She wanted to bury Marley."

Daryl tensed.

"She chose me to go with her because she knew I'd understand – 'course she wasn't plannin' on telling me. She was gonna give me the slip the first chance she got."

"So why didn't she?"

"We were attacked by some walkers I—I finally confronted her about it," Rick said, shifting on his feet. "We got to talkin' – about the things we've done— had to do."

Daryl furrowed his brow, confused. He knew about her guilt, knew about the nightmares. What he didn't know was just how far that went.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Daryl asked, his voice a low whisper. Rick sighed heavily and put his hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"She and I— we were the same. We had become the kind of people that we didn't need to be at the prison. We'd lost who we were— she was scared of who she'd become. And she was scared you wouldn't understand," Rick admitted. "We were trying to… find a way to live with what we'd done – trying to make amends. Find ourselves again."

"Now she's dead," Daryl breathed.

"We don't know—"

"You ain't gotta lie to me," Daryl interrupted. "I've made my peace with it. I mean, it's shitty, but…, it's just how the world works. Ain't nothin' I can do about it."

Rick stepped away, looking off to the side.

"She was somethin' else," Rick laughed.

Daryl's lips twitched up into a sad smile.

"She was," he agreed.

"She was strong – a survivor," Rick said, tilting his head so he could look Daryl in the eye. "She was a good person."

All Daryl could do was nod.

 _She was…,_ he thought.

"We should head back," Daryl suggested, turning around and heading off.

When they met up, Daryl gathered up most of the weapons in a blue duffle while Rick dug a long, shallow hole in the dirt.

Rick took the duffle and set it in the hole. Daryl watched as Rick set his Python in amongst the guns, taking a different handgun in its place before he buried their weapons.

"Just in case."

.

They climbed over the back fence, weapons out and ready. Silently, the four made their way across the tracks to an open door. Daryl took point while Rick eased the door open. Cautiously, one by one, they filed inside.

Echoing through the building, they could hear a woman's voice.

"Those who arrive survive. Follow the tracks to the point where all lines intersect."

They pushed down the hall until they found the source of the voice. Daryl peered into the room. The first thing he saw was a large map of the United States hanging from the rafters. Then he saw the white haired woman sitting at a desk just in front of it, speaking into a ham radio.

"There are maps at the crossings to help guide you with your journey. Sanctuary for all…"

He looked further into the room and saw more people working on signs and maps, just like the what he'd seen on the tracks.

"Community for all. Those who arrive survive."

They strode into the room.

"Terminus. Sanctuary for all. Community for all—"

"Hello," Rick called, gaining everyone's attention. "Hello," he repeated, louder this time.

One man with a paint brush groaned as he registered their presence.

"Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch," the man griped, throwing down the paint brush. He walked around the tables to face them. "You here to rob us?"

"No," Rick assured. "We wanted to see you before you saw us," he explained, holstering his gun.

"Makes sense," the man conceded. He threw his hands out and started towards them. "Usually we do this where the tracks meet," he said and cleared his throat. "Welcome to Terminus."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

"Welcome to Terminus. I'm Gareth," the man said. "Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit."

"We have," Rick agreed. "Rick," he said, gesturing to himself before glancing at his companions. "That's Carl, Daryl, Michonne."

Daryl shifted on his feet, his grip on his crossbow tightening. Gareth waved at them with a kind smile.

"You're nervous. I get it," Gareth observed. "We were all the same way. We came here for sanctuary. That what you're here for?"

"Yes."

"Good. You found it," Gareth assured. "Hey, Alex!" He called. Another man jogged up. "This isn't as pretty as the front. We got nothing to hide, but welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer. Alex will take you, ask you a few questions. Uh, but first…" he paused, scrunching up his face. "We need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay them down in front of you," he instructed.

Daryl looked to Rick, waiting for his lead.

"Alright," Rick relented after exchanging a look with them. They set their weapons on the ground in front of them,

"I'm sure you understand," Gareth said.

"Yes, I do," Rick agreed.

They stood back, raising their arms to be searched. Alex walked up to Daryl first and started patting him down.

"Hate to see the other guy," he smiled, referring to the bruises on Daryl's face.

"You would," Rick said.

Alex patted down Carl next. Daryl didn't miss the way the boy flinched.

"They deserve it?" Alex asked.

"Yes," Carl answered.

"Just so you know, we aren't those kind of people," Gareth assured. "But we aren't stupid either. And you shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything stupid." Gareth looked at each of them in turn. "As long as everyone's clear on that, we shouldn't have any problems. Just solutions. Okay?"

Alex started picking up and handing back their weapons. Daryl snatched up his crossbow before the man could touch it, staring him down. Alex backed off and continued down the line.

"Follow me," he said once everyone had their weapons.

He led them out to the front and past garden boxes of vegetables, fruit, and sunflowers, and then finally through the front gate.

"So, how long's this place been here?" Daryl asked.

"Since almost the start," Alex said. "When all the camps got overrun, people started finding this place," he explained. "I think it was instinct, you know? Follow a path."

Daryl's stomach tightened painfully as the scent of cooking meat grew stronger. Just up ahead he could see a woman standing at a long grill. She smiled when she caught sight of them.

"Some folks were heading to the coast, others out West or up North, but they all wound up here."

People were scattered around the courtyard, eating and conversing.

"Hi," the woman at the grill greeted as they stopped in front of her. "Heard you came in the back door. Smart," she praised. "You'll fit right in here."

"Hey, Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a plate for me?" Alex requested.

Daryl looked around at the people, saw how peaceful they seemed to be, even with their presence. And then his eyes landed on a bright orange duffle. He tensed.

 _"What are you doin'?" Daryl asked, watching as Anna shoved a change of clothes to the bottom of the bright orange duffle bag._

 _It had only been a week since they'd started sharing a cell, and he was quickly coming to realize that Anna had some odd tendencies. For one, she never slept more than a couple hours – and that was pushing it. She also collected things, shoved them in the duffle, and hid them under the bed. Things like extra supplies._

" _It's a bug-out bag," she said absently as she arranged the supplies inside before sliding it under the bed and out of sight. "Just in case, you know?"_

He turned to Rick, ready to say something when a light shined in his eyes. Mary was just handing Alex another plate of food when he saw it. A silver plated bracelet with scratches and dents catching the light – a quote from Johnathan Swift engraved in the face. He was just barely able to make it out. _May you live all the days of your life_.

Before he could react, Rick stormed forward and wrapped his arm around Alex's throat, pulling the man to him. Without a second thought, Daryl brought up his crossbow, aiming it at Mary before she could pull her gun.

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" He heard Rick hiss.

"The bracelet. Give it here," Daryl commanded, stepping towards Mary.

"My son gave this to me," Mary insisted.

"Yeah, and where they hell did he get it?"

"I got them off some deadies," Gareth called from somewhere behind him. Daryl's chest constricted. "Didn't think she needed it anymore."

"What about the watch? The riot gear, the poncho?" Rick asked.

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop. Found the poncho on a clothesline."

"Gareth," Alex pleaded.

"Shut up," he snapped. "Rick, what do you want?" He asked, his tone gentler.

"Where are our people?" Rick demanded.

"You didn't answer the question," Gareth sighed.

Daryl jumped out of the way as gunfire filled the air. They ran for the front gate, but a spray of bullets blocked their path.

"Come on!" Daryl called, leading them in another direction. More gunfire forced them into the garage. They ran for the open doors, but they slammed shut in their faces.

"This way!"

Daryl yanked open another door tucked away in a corner, the letter A painted beside it in white. They ran through into a back alley, bullets hitting the ground behind them as they made their way past dumpsters and destroyed cars.

"Get 'em off B!" He heard someone yell before they were forced down another alley.

"Help! Let us out!"

"What the hell?" Daryl asked, sparing a glance over his shoulder at red storage containers. They didn't have time to worry about it, though.

"Keep going!" Rick snapped.

They broke through another door into a room filled with candles and trinkets. He grimaced at the sight.

"What the hell is this place?" He asked.

"These people, I don't think they're trying to kill us," Michonne said through labored breaths.

 _Never again. Never trust. We first, always_ was painted along the wall.

"No," Rick agreed. "They were aiming at our feet." He pointed to another door on the other side of the room, the letter A painted beside it. "There."

Outside, he could see the back fence. They were going to make it. Until several barrels of guns poked through the chain-link. He skidded to a halt. He looked around him, hoping to find some way to escape, but all he saw were guns aimed at them from all directions.

They were trapped.

"Drop your weapons!"

Daryl turned to find Gareth hovering over them atop one of the buildings.

"Now!"

They hesitated.

"Now!"

Rick was the first to drop his guns. The others followed his lead, raising their hands in surrender.

"Ringleader, go to your left," ordered Gareth. "The train car, go." Rick looked to Carl. "You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies, and you end up in there anyway."

Rick shook his head, but obeyed, walking towards the red boxcar.

"Now the archer."

Daryl sneered, but followed Rick. What other choice did they have?

"Now the samurai. Stand at the door; ringleader, archer, samurai, in that order."

They did as he said.

"My son!" Rick called. There was a pause.

"Go, kid." And Carl came. "Ringleader, open the door and go in."

"I'll go in with him!" Rick challenged.

"Don't make us kill him now!" Gareth warned.  
Daryl watched as Rick glared back at Gareth before he walked up the steps and pulled the boxcar open. He disappeared inside, and Daryl followed after, Michonne and Carl just behind. The door slammed shut, plunging them in darkness.

He kicked the wall, cursing under his breath. After everything, this was what was going to take him out. Take them all out.

And that bitch at the grill had Anna's bracelet. His whole body started to shake as the reality of their situation sunk in. Anna had made it out of the prison, she had lived, and he hadn't gone to find her. Now she really was dead. Killed by a bunch of psychos.

"Rick?"

.

.

Anna let her head fall back against the wall of the boxcar. They'd been trapped for two days, their only source of food powdered milk. The others hadn't wanted to accept the sustenance, but Anna convinced them they needed to – to keep their strength up. To fight back. She didn't want to believe just how horribly their luck had turned so quickly, but there they were.

Jessie sat beside her, bouncing his leg up and down, and it was starting to get on her nerves, so she slapped her hand over his knee and held it still.

"Sorry, just anxious," he muttered.

The gunfire had stopped just a few minutes ago – for a split second they had hope that they would be saved. But according to Abraham, after peering through the holes in the wall, there were only four people mounting an attack on Terminus, and one of them was a kid. There was no hope.

The door to the boxcar slid open and four people stepped in. It slammed shut behind them. Anna flinched as one of them kicked the wall, feeling the metal vibrate against her back and head. But she didn't bother to see who their new companions were.

Not until Glenn spoke up.

"Rick?"

Anna's eyes widened as she straightened where she sat, staring through the darkness until she could make out Rick's face. She scrambled to her feet, rushing forward to stand just behind Glenn.

"You're here," Rick breathed, disbelief in his voice. "You're here," he repeated as he saw Anna step forward.

"Anna?"

She saw him standing there at the back of the boxcar and her heart pounded in her ears. She didn't think, she just moved, sprinting to him and crashing into his arms. She clung to him.

"Daryl," she choked out, burying her face in his shoulder, breathing him in. She felt his arms wrap around her, squeezing her to him until she could barely breathe.

Anna pulled away, getting a good look at him, ignoring the tears that were sliding down her face. Her hands roved over his chest and shoulders and face, and she pulled him back to her, kissing every inch of his face until she pressed her lips against his.

When they finally came up for air, he stared at her, his fingers ghosting over her cheeks.

"You're alive," he whispered. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," she said, her cheeks aching with her smile.

He shook his head and hugged her to him again, his face in her hair.

"Who are these people?" Rick asked, and she turned to face him. He was staring at Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, and Jessie suspiciously.

"They're our friends," Maggie explained. "They helped save us."

Daryl looked at Anna and she nodded.

"Now they're friends of ours," he said.

"For however long that'll be," Abraham grumbled.

"No," Rick said, shaking his head as he walked back to the door. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

"Find out what?" Abraham sneered.

Rick looked to Glenn before turning to look at each of them one by one, until his eyes landed on Anna. She straightened and worked her jaw. She gave a single nod.

He didn't have to say it aloud. At the prison, they'd wanted to be better – had to be better. But things were different on the outside. It was about survival. It always came down to who would be the last one standing. And by whatever power was still up there, it was going to be them.

"They're screwing with the wrong people."

.

.

.

* * *

A/N: And that's "Against the Tide"! I hope you're enjoying the story so far!

The story continues in "No Safe Harbor"

Lots of love!  
\- Panda


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